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JUN -5 l?i8 

Ck>P7ri«hi, 1909 


Printers and Binders 


FABT I— Famous Bides, Selections from Shakespeare and other Poetn^ 
and Studies in Bhythm 


Paul Revere's Bide Henry W, Longfellow 15 

The Leap op Roushan Beg Henry W. Longfellow, 19 

The Charge of the Light Brigade 

AT Balaklava Alfred, Lord Tennyson 22 

The Diverting History op John 

Gilpin William Cowper 25 

How They Brought the Good 

News from Ghent to Aix Boheri Browning 34 

Incident of the French Gamp Bobert Browning 37 

Herv£ Riel Bobert Browning 38 


The Bugle Song Alfred, Lord Tennyson 43 

The Brook ; . . Alfred, Lord Tennyson 44 

Song op the Chattahoochee Sidney Lanier 47 

The Cataract op Lodore Bobert Southey 50 

The Bells Edgar Allan Toe 54 

Annabel Lee Edgar Allan Poe 57 

Opportunity EdUoard Bowland Sill 59 


To a Waterfowl William Cullen Bryant 60 

The Skylark James Hogg 62 

To A Skylark Percy Bysshe Shelley 64 

The Cloud Percy Bysshe Shelley 68 

Apostrophe to the Ocean Lord Byron 71 


The Destruction of Sennacherib. ;. . Lord Byron 74 

The Eve Before Waterloo Lord Byron 76 

Song of the Greek Bard Lord Byron 79 

Marco Bozzabis Fitg-Greene Halleck 82 

The Burial of Sib John Moors Charles Wolfe 85 

Table of Contents 

STOBIES (Continued): paob 

Absalom Natlianiel Parker Willia 87 

LocHiNVAB Sir Walter Scott 91 

Parting op Marmion and Douglas . . . Sir Walter Scott 93 

For A' That and A' That Eohert Bums 96 


Mercy The Merchant of Venice. . 98 

The Seven Ages op Man As You Like It 100 

PoLONius's Advice Hamlet 101 

Man Hamlet 102 

Hamlet's Soliloquy Hamlet 103 

Eeputation Othello '. 104 

"Wolsey and Cromwell King Henry VIII 104 

Oassio and Iago Othello 106 

PABT n — Great American Authors 

Washington Irving Ill 

Eip Van Winkle 113 

The Voyage 132 

Nathaniel Hawthorne 139 

The Great Stone Face 141 

My Visit to Niagara 163 

Edgar Allan Poe 170 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 172 

The Eaven 190 

Henry Wadsworth Longpellow 194 

Evangeline : A Tale op Acadie 197 

The Building op the Ship 251 

John Greenleap Whittier 263 

Snow-Bound 265 

The Ship Builders 286 

Oliver Wendell Holmes , 289 

The Chambered Nautilus 291 

The Deacon's Masterpiece; or the Wonderful **One-Hoss 

Shay" 292 

Old Ironsides 297 

The Boys 298 

The Last Leap 300 

James Eussell Lowell 302 

The Vision op Sir Launfal 303 

Yussoup .' 315 

Sidney Lanier 316 

The Marshes op Glynn 318 

Table of Contents 5 

PAST in— Patriotic Selections 


Beoulus Before the Roman Senate. .... Epea Sargent 325 

The Return op Begulus Elijah Kellogg 327 

Spartacus to the Gladiators Elijah Kellogg 330 

]i|ERiT Before Birth Sallust 333 

BiENZi's Address to the Romans Mary Bussell Mitford 334 

Emmet 's Vindication 336 

Kjnq Phillip to the White Settler Edward Everett 339 

The Capture of Quebec Francis Parkman 342 

England and Her Colonies Edmund Burke 344 

The Way to Wealth Benjamin Franklin 346 

Speech on a Resolution to Put Virginia 

Into a State of Defence Patrick Henry 350 

The Man Without a Country Edward Everett Hale 353 

Love of Country Sir Walter Scott 355 

Napoleon Bonaparte Charles Phillips 356 

The True Grandeur of Nations Charles Sumner 358 

The Evils op War Henry Clay 361 

Peace, the Policy of a Nation John C. Calhoun 363 

The First Settlement of New England. . Daniel Webster 366 

Supposed Speech op John Adams Daniel Webster 367 

South Carolina and the Union Robert Hayne 370 

Reply to Hayne Daniel Webster 371 

Dedication Speech at Gettysburg Abraham Lincoln 374 

Lincoln, the Great Commoner Edwin Markham .375 

O Captain, My Captain Walt Whitman 376 

Farewell Address George Washington 377 

The MEitORY op Our Fathers Henry Ward Beecher 383 

The American Flag J. B, Drake 385 

Warren's Address at the Battle op 

Bunker Hill John Pierpont 387 

Columbus Joaquin Miller 388 

Recessional — A Victorian Ode Budyard Kipling 390 

A Definition op a Gentleman Cardinal Newman 391 


In the ELSON READERS selections are grouped according to theme or 
authorship. This arrangement, however, is not intended to fix an order for 
reading in class; its purpose is to emphasize classification, facilitate comparir 
Bon, and enable pupils to appreciate similarities and contrasts in the treat- 
ment of like themes hy different authors. 

To give variety, to meet the interests at different seasons and festivals, 
and to go from prose to poetry and from long to short selections, a care- 
fully planned order of reading should be followed. Such an order of reading 
calls for a full consideration of all the factors mentioned above. The Course 
here offered meets these ends but may easily be varied to fit local conditions. 


















THE BOYS (298) 









THB RAVEN (190) 












Course of Reading 7 






DED??i?i'oN°Sp»S^H ?374f """^ ^"^^ I LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY. TKB. 12 

S"ci™L'SrMY™c'!S?A{f *^76) r • • • WASHINGTON'S B.UTHDAY. FEB. 22. 




YDSSODF (315) J 






PAUL REVERE'S ride (15) (APRIL 19) 





THE SKYLARK (62) 1 • 




















This book is designed to furnish reading material of choice lit- 
erary and dramatic quality. The selections for the most part are 
those that have stood the test of time and are acknowledged master- 
pieces. The groupings into the separate parts will aid both teachers 
and pupils in the classification of the material^ indicating at a 
glance the range and variety of the literature included. 

Part One deals with poetry, and it is believed the poems offered 
in this group are unsurpassed. No effort on the teacher's part will 
be needed to arouse the enthusiasm of pupils who read the series 
of famous rides with which this group opens. The thrill of delight 
which children feel as they read of "A hurry of hoofs in a village 
street/' or "Charging an army while all the world wondered/' 
may lead to the stronger and more enduring emotions of patriotism 
and devotion. "John Gilpin^s Ride/' which has furnished amuse- 
ment for generations of old and young, finds a place here. The 
rhythmic movement of these poems makes a natural transition to 
those selections especially designed as studies in rhythm. The 
series of nature poems and selections from Shakespeare complete 
a group of choice literary creations. Part Two is given to a study 
of the great American authors, and no apology is needed either for 
the choice of material or for the prominence given to this group. 
It is especially suited to parallel and supplement the work of this 
grade in American history. Part Three contains patriotic selec- 
tions and some of the great orations. These are lofty and inspir- 
ing in style, within the grasp of the pupils, and are especially help- 
ful in developing power of expression. 

It is not expected that the order of selections will be followed. 
On the contrary, each teacher will follow the order which will best 

10 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

suit her own plans and purposes. While there is much material 
in the book that will reenforce lessons in history, geography, and 
nature study, yet it is not for this that these selections should be 
studied, but rather for the pleasure that comes from reading beau- 
tiful thoughts beautifully expressed. The reading lesson should 
therefore be a study of literature, and it should lead the children 
to find beauty of thought and imagery, fitness in figures of speech, 
and delicate shades of meaning in words. Literature is an art, and 
the chief aim of the reading lesson is to discover and interpret 
its art qualities. In this way children learn how to read books- 
and are enabled to appreciate the literary treasures of the race. 
The business of the reading book is to furnish the best available 
material for this purpose. 

It is worth while to make a thorough study of a few well-chosen, 
selections. Through the power gained in this way children . are 
enabled to interpret and enjoy other selections without the aid of 
the teacher. If the class work is. for the most part of the intensive 
kind, the pupils will read the remaining lessons alone for sheer 
pleasure, which is at once the secret and goal of good teaching in. 
literature. Moreover, they will exercise a discriminating taste and 
judgment in their choice of reading matter. To love good litera* 
ture, to find pleasure in reading it and to gain power to choose it 
with discrimination are the supreme ends to be attained by the read- 
ing lesson. For this reason, some selections should be read many 
times for the pleasure they give the children. In music the teacher 
sometimes calls for expressions of preference among songs : "What 
song shall we sing, children?" So in reading, "What selection 
shall we read ?" is a good question for the teacher to ask frequently. 
Thus children come to make familiar friends of some of the stories 
and poems, and find genuine enjoyment in reading these again 
and again. 

Good results may also be obtained by assigning to a pupil a 
particular lesson which he is expected to prepare. On a given day 
he will read to the class the selection assigned to him. The ora- 
tions are especially suited to this mode of treatment. The pupil 

Introduction 11 

who can read one selection well has gone a long way toward being 
a good reader. The teacher who said to her pupils, "I shall read to 
you tomorrow/' recognized this truth and knew the value of an 
occasional exercise of that kind. Good pedagogy approves of a 
judicious use of methods of imitation in teaching reading. 

The biographies are intended to acquaint the children with the 
personal characteristics and lives of the authors, making them more 
interesting and real to the children, giving them the human touch 
and incidentally furnishing helpful data for interpreting their writ- 
ings. In this connection, the authors have, by permission, drawn 
freely from Professor Newcomer's English and American Litera- 
tures. "Helps to Study*' include questions and notes designed to 
stimulate inquiry on the part of pupils and to suggest fruitful 
lines of study. Only a few points are suggested, to indicate the 
way, and no attempt is made to cover the ground adequately; this 
remains for the teacher to do. 

While placing emphasis primarily on the thought-getting 
process the formalities of thought-giving must not be overlooked. 
The technique of reading, though always subordinate and secondary 
to the mastery of the thought, nevertheless claims constant and 
careful attention. Good reading requires clear enunciation and 
correct pronunciation and these can be secured only when the 
teacher steadily insists upon them. The increase of foreign 
elements in our school population and the influence of these upon 
clearness and accuracy of speech furnish added reason for attention 
to these details. Special drill exercises should be given and the 
habit of using the dictionary freely should be firmly established in 
pupils. The ready use of the dictionary and other reference books 
for pronunciation and meaning of words, for historical and mythical 
allusions should be steadily cultivated. Without doubt much of 
the reading accepted in the public schools is seriously deficient in 
these particulars. The art of good reading can be cultivated by 
judicious training and the school should spare no pains to realize 
this result. 

Professor Clark, in his book on "How to Teach Eeading," sets 

12 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

forth the four elements of vocal expression — Time, Pitch, Quality 
and Force. We quote a few of the sentences from his treatment 
of each of these elementary topics. 

"I. TIME. Time, then, refers to the rate of vocal movement. It 
may be fast, or moderate, or slow, according to the amount of what may be 
called the collateral thinking accompanying the reading of any given 
passage. To put it another way: a phrase is read slowly because it means 
much; because the thought is large, sublime, deep. The collateral thinking 
may be revealed by an expansive paraphrase. For instance, in the lines 

''Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried, 

why do we read slowly? The paraphrase answers the question. It 
was midnight. There lay our beloved leader, who should have been borne 
in triumphal procession to his last resting place. Bells should have tolled^ 
cannon thundered, and thousands should have followed his bier. But now, 
alas, by night, by stealth, without even a single drum tap, in fear and 
dread, we crept breathless to the rampart. This, or any one of a hundred 
other paraphrases, will suffice to render the vocal movement slow. And 
so it is with all slow time. Let it be remembered that a profound or 
sublime thought may be uttered in fast time; but that when we dwell upon 
that thought, when we hold it before the mind, the time must necessarily 
be slow. If a child read too rapidly, it is because his mind is not sufficiently^ 
occupied with the thought; if he read too slowly, it is because he does not 
get the words; or because he is temperamentally slow; or because^ and this 
is the most likely explanation, he is making too much of a small idea. To 
tell him to read fast or slow is but to make him affected, and, incidentally,, 
even if unconsciously, to impress upon him that reading is a matter of 
mechanics, and not of thought-getting and thought-giving." 

**II. PITCH. By Pitch is meant everything that has to do with the 
acuteness or gravity of the tone — in other words, with keys, melodies, in- 
flections and modulations. When we say of one that he speaks in a high 
key, we should be understood as meaning that his pitch is prevailingly high ; 
and that the reverse is true when we say of one that he speaks in a low 
key. While it is true that the key differs in individuals, yet experience 
shows that within a note or two, we all use the same keys in expressing the 
same states of minds. The question for us is, what determines the keyf 
It can be set down as a fixed principle, that controlled mental states are 
expressed by low keys, while the high keys are the manifestation of the 
less controlled mental conditions. Drills in inflections as such are of very 

Introduction 13 

little value, and potentially very harmful. Most pupils have no difficulty in 
making proper inflections, so that for them class drills are time wasted; 
for those whose reading is monotonous, because of lack of melodic variety, 
the best drills are those which teach them to make a careful analysis of the 
sentences, and those which awaken them to the necessity of impressing the 
thought upon others. We have learned that when a pupil has the proper 
motive in mind and is desirous of conveying his intention to another, a 
certain melody will always manifest that intention. The melody, then, is 
the criterion of the pupil's purpose. The moment a pupil loses sight of a 
phrase and its relation to the other phrases, that moment his melody be- 
trays him.'* 

*«III. QUALITY. Quality manifests emotional states. By Quality 
we mean that subtle element in the voice by which is expressed at one 
time tenderness, at another harshness, at another awe, and so on through 
the whole gamut of feeling. The teacher now knows that emotion affects the 
quality of tone. Let him then use this knowledge as he has learned to use 
his knowledge of the other criteria. We recognize instinctively the qualities 
that express sorrow, tenderness, joy, and the other, states of feeling. When 
the proper quality does not appear it is because the child has no feeling, or 
the wrong feeling, generally the former. There is but one way to correct 
the expression, i. e., by stimulating the imagination." 

**IV. FORCE. Force manifests the degree of mental energy. When 
we speak in a loud voice, there is much energy; when softly, there is little. 
Do not tell the child to read louder. If you do, you will get loudness — 
that awful grating schoolboy loudness — ^without a particle of expression 
in it. Many a child reads well, but is bashful. When we tell him to read 
louder, he braces himself for the effort and kills the quality, which is the 
finer breath and spirit of oral expression, and gives us a purely physical 
thing — force. Put your weak-voiced readers on the platform ; let them face 
the class and talk to you, seated in the middle of the room, and you will 
get all the force you need. On the whole, we have too much force, rather 
than too little. Let the teacher learn that we want quality, not quantity, 
and our statement of the mental action behind force will be of much 
benefit in creating the proper conditions." 

To discriminating teachers it will be apparent that this book 
is not the usual school reader. On the contrary it differs widely 
from this in the cultural value of the selections, in the classification 
and arrangement of material, in the variety of interest to which it 
appeals, and in the abundance of classic literature from American 
authors which it contains. It aims to furnish the best in poetry 

14 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

and prose to be found in the literature of the English-speaking race 
and to furnish it in abundance. If these familiar old selections, 
long accepted as among the best in literature, shall be the means 
of cultivating in pupils a taste for good reading, the book will have 
fulfilled its purpose. 

For permission to use valuable selections from their lists, 
acknowledgment is due to Messrs. Houghton, Miffin and Company,. 
Charles Scribner's Sons, and The Whitaker and Ray Company. 

Grateful acknowledgment is also made to those teachers who 
have given valuable suggestions and criticisms in the compilation 
of this book, 

The Authors. 

April, 1909. 

*'We live in deeds, not years, in thoughts, not breaths; 
Jn feelings, not in figures on a dial." 

Philip James Bailbt. 





Listen, my children, and you shall hear 
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five: 
Hardly a man is now alive 
S Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend : ^^If the British march 
By land or sea from the town tonight, 
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch 
Of the North Church tower, as a signal-light,— 
10 One if by land, and two if by sea ; 
And I on the opposite shore will be, 
Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every Middlesex village and farm. 
For the country-folk to be up and to arm/' 

15 Then he said "good night," and with mufifled oar 
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, 
Just as the moon rose over the bay. 
Where, swinging wide at her moorings, lay 
The Somerset, British man-of-war: 

20 A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 

* For Biography see page 194. 


16 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Across the moon, like a prison-bar, 

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 

By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street 
25 Wanders and watches with eager ears. 
Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the barrack-door. 
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet. 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
30 Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed to the tower of the church. 
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread. 
To the belfry-chamber overhead. 
And startled the pigeons from their perch 

35 On the sombre rafters, that round him made 
Masses and moving shapes of shade, — 
Up the trembling ladder, steep and tall, 
To the highest window in the wall, 
Where he paused to listen and look down 

40 A moment on the roofs of the town, 
And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead 
In their night-encampment on the hill. 
Wrapped in silence so deep and still, 

45 That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread. 
The watchful night-wind, as it went 
Creeping along from tent to tent, 
And seeming to whisper, "All is well !" 
A moment only he feels the spell 

50 Of the place and the hour, the secret dread 
Of the lonely belfry and the dead ; 
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 
On a shadowy something far away, 
Where the river widens to meet the bay,— 

55 A line of black, that bends and floats 

On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Paul Revere's Ride 17 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 

Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, 

On the opposite shore walked Paul Bevere. 
60 Now he patted his horse's side. 

Now gazed at the landscape far and near. 

Then impetuous stamped the e^rth. 

And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; 

But mostly he watched with eager search 
65 The belfry-tower of the old North Church, 

As it rose above the graves on the hill, 

Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still. 

And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height, 

A glimmer, and then a gleam of light ! 
70 He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns. 

But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 

A second lamp in the belfry bums ! 

A hurry of hoofs in a village-street, 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 

75 And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet : 
That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light, 
The fate of a nation was riding that night ; 
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 

80 Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep, 
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep. 
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides ; 
And under the alders, that skirt its edge, 
85 Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge. 
Is heard the tramp of the steed as he rides. 

It was twelve by the village-clock 
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 
He heard the crowing of the cock, 
90 And the barking of the farmer's dog. 
And felt the damp of the river-fog 
That rises after the sun goes down. 

18 Elson (Grammar School Reader Book Four 

It was one by the village-clock 
When he galloped into Lexington. 
95 He saw the gilded weathercock 

Swim in the moonlight as he passed, 
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare. 
Gaze at him with a spectral glare. 
As if they already stood aghast 
100 At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village-clock 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 

He heard the bleating of the flock, 

And the twitter of birds among the trees, 
105 And felt the breath of the morning-breeze 

Blowing over the meadows brown. 

And one was safe and asleep in his bed 

Who at the bridge would be first to fall. 

Who that day would be lying dead, 
110 Pierced by a British musket-ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read 
How the British regulars fired and fled, — 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball. 
From behind each fence and farmyard-wall, 
115 Chasing the redcoats down the lane. 

Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road. 
And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Bevere ; 

120 And so through the night went his cry of alarm 
To every Middlesex village and farm, — 
A cry of defiance, and not of fear, — 
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door. 
And a word that shall echo forevermore! 

125 For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 
Through all our history, to the last. 
In the hour of darkness and peril and need. 

The Leap of RomJum Beg Id 

The people will waken and listen to hear 
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, 
130 And the midnight-message of Paul Revere. 

Notes and Qnestlons 

What message did Paul Bevere 

Bead an account of the battle of 
Lexington and observe how 
nearly this poem is true to his- 

Who were John Hancock and 
Samuel Adams f 

What does the second stanza tell 
youf The seventh stanza f 

Does this poem call your attention 
chiefly to the horse, the rider, 
or the message f 

Sketch a map locating Boston, 
Charlestown, Medford, Lexing- 
ton, Concord. 

Words and Pbraaes for Discussion. 

' ' the fate of a nation was riding that night ' ' 
''gaze at him with a spectral glare" 
''the spark struck out by that steed in his flight 
kindled the land into flame with its heat" 
•"sombre" "red-coats" "fearless and fleet" 



Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, 
His chestnut steed with four white feet, 

Boushan Beg, called Kurroglou, 
Son of the road and bandit chief, 
5 Seeking refuge and relief. 

Up the mountain pathway flew. 

Such was ihe Kyrat's wondrous speed, 
Never yet could any steed 
Beach the dust-cloud in his course. 

* By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co., authorized pnhlishers of Long- 
fellow's works. 

20 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

10 More than maiden, more than wife. 

More than gold and next to life 
Boushan the Bobber loved his horse. 

In the land that lies beyond 
Erzeroum and Trebizond, 
IS Garden-girt, his fortress stood; 

Plundered khan, or caravan 
Journeying north from Koordistan, 
Gave him wealth and wine and food. 

Seven hundred and fourscore 
20 Men at arms his livery wore. 

Did his bidding night and day ; 
Now, through regions all unknown. 
He was wandering, lost, alone. 

Seeking, without guide, his way. 

25 Suddenly the pathway ends, 

Sheer the precipice descends, 

Loud the torrent roars unseen ; 
Thirty feet from side to side 
Yawns the chasm; on air must ride 

30 He who crosses this ravine. 

Following close in his pursuit, 
At the precipice's foot 

Beyhan the Arab of Orfah 
Halted with his hundred men, 
35 Shouting upward from the glen, 

"La Illah ilia AlWh !" 

Gently Boushan Beg caressed 
Kyrat's forehead, neck and breast; 

Kissed him upon both his eyes, 
40 Sang to him in his wild way. 

As upon the topmost spray 

Sings a bird before it flie?. 

The Leap of Roushan Beg 31 

^^0 my Kyrat, my steed, 
Eound and slender as a reed, 
45 Carry me this peril through! 

Satin housings shall be thine, 
Shoes of gold, Kyrat mine, 
thou soul of Kurroglou ! 

^^Soft thy skin as silken skein, 
50 Soft as woman's hair thy mane. 

Tender are thine eyes and true ; 
AH thy hoofs like ivory shine, 
Polished bright; life. of mine, 

Leap, and rescue Kurroglou !" 

55 Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet, 

Drew together his four white feet, 

Paused a moment on the verge. 

Measured with his eye the space. 

And into the air's embrace 

60 Leaped as leaps the ocean surge. 

As the ocean surge o'er sand 
Bears a swimmer safe to land, 

Kyrat safe his rider bore ; 
Battling down the deep abyss 
65 Fragments of the precipice 

Boiled like pebbles on a shore. 

Boushan's tasselled cap of red 
Trembled not upon his head ; 

Careless sat he and upright ; 
70 Neither hand nor bridle shook. 

Nor his head he turned to look. 

As he galloped out of sight. 

Flash of harness in the air. 
Seen a moment, like the glare 
75 Of a sword drawn from its sheath ; 

Thus the phantom horseman passed. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 


And the shadow that he cast 
Leaped the cataract underneath. 

Beyhan the Arab held his breath 
While this vision of life and death 

Passed above him. "AUahu V 
Cried he. "In all Koordistan 
lives there not so brave a man 

As this Bobber Kurroglou !'^ 



Notes ai\d 
stanza teUf 

What does the 

The second? 
What is the purpose of the fifth 

What comparison is found in the 

seventh stanza? In the eighth? 

In the ninth? 
What do we mean by "figure of 

speech ? ' ' Illustrate. 


State in your own words the 
thought in the eleventh stanza. 

In next to the last stanza give the 
meaning of the last three lines. 

What lesson of heroism does this 
poem give you? 

Whom should you call the hero of 
this tale? 

Who is Allah? Where is Koor- 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

* phantom ' 

* verge ' ' 

• caravan ' 

* abyss ' ' 

* garden-girt ' ' 

* cataract ' ' 



Half a league, half a league. 

Half a league onward, 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 
5 "Forward, the Light Brigade ! 

Charge for the guns V he said : 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

The Charge of the Light Brigade at Balahlava 23 

"Forward, the Light Brigade V 
10 Was there a man dismay'd? 

Not tho' the soldier knew 

Some one had blunder'd : 
Theirs not to make reply. 
Theirs not to reason why, 
15 Theirs but to do and die : 

Into the valley of Death 
Bode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
20 Cannon in front of them 

Volley^ and thunder'd ; 
Storm'd at with shot and shell. 
Boldly they rode and well, 
Into the jaws of Death, 
25 Into the mouth of Hell 

Bode the six hundred. 
Flash'd all their sabres bare. 
Flashed as they turn'd in air 
Sabring the gunners there, 
30 Charging an army, while 

All the world wondered ; 
Plunged in the battery-smoke 
Bight thro' the line they broke ; 
Coss&ck and Bussian 
35 BeeFd from the sabre-stroke 

Shattered and sunderM. 
Then they rode back, but not. 
Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
40 Cannon to left of them. 

Cannon behind them 

Volleyed and thundered ; 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 

24 EUon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

45 They that had fought so well 

Came through the jaws of Death 
Back from the mouth of Hell, 
All that was left of them, 
Left of six hundred. 

50 When can their glon' fade ! 

Oh the wild charge they made ! 
All the world wondered. 

Honor the charge they made ! 

Honor the Light Brigade, 
55 Noble six hundred ! 


Biographical and Historical: Alfred Tennyson was born in that 
memorable birth year, 1809, which brought into the world a company of 
the greatest men of the century, including Darwin, Gladstone, Lincoln, 
Poe, Chopin, and Mendelssohn. He was one of twelve children who 
lived together a healthful life of study and sport. Gathering the other 
children about him he held them captive with his stories of knightly 
deeds — tales drawn partly from his reading and partly from his fertile 
fancy. They lived again the thrilling life of joust and tournament. 
Past the house in the village of Somersby, in Lincolnshire, where his 
father was rector, flowed a brook, in all probability the brook that came 
* * from haunts of coot and hem ... to bicker down a valley. ' ' 
He was a student at Cambridge, where he met and became deeply 
attached to Arthur Henry Hallam, whose death not long afterward 
inspired the poem **In Memoriam." In 1850, upon Wordsworth's death, 
Tennyson was made poet laureate and the poem commemorating the 
heroic charge at Balaklava in 1854, ' ' The Charge of the Light Brigade, ' ' 
shows how he adorned this office. In 1884 the queen raised him to the 
peerage, and from that time he was known as Lord Tennyson. He 
lived as much in retirement as was possible, part of the time making 
his home in the Isle of Wight. He died in 1892 and was buried in the 
Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey. 

The event which this poem describes occurred at Balaklava in the 
Crimea, October 25th, 1854. Of six hundred seven men only about one 
hundred fifty survived. The order to charge, bearing the signature of 
Lord Lucan, was delivered by Captain Nolan to the Earl of Cardigan, 

The Diverting History of John Oilpin 25 

who was in command of the ''Light Brigade." Nolan was killed in the 
charge while Cardigan survived. The death of Nolan made it impossible 
to determine whether the signature to the order was genuine or forged. 
It was in this war that Florence Nightingale rendered such noble 
service as hospital nurse. She arrived at Balaklava ten days after this 

Notes and Questions 

On your map find Balaklava on the 
Black Sea. 

What nation attacked the Rus- 
sians ? 

What was the significance of 
Sevastopol f 

What is a brigade? A light bri- 

What is meant by ''charging an 

Who had "blundered"! 
What lines tell you that obedience 

is the first duty of the soldier? 
What line tells you how vain and 

hopeless was this charge? 
How does the poem impress you? 

Words and Phrases for Dlscuasion 
' Valley of Death " ' ' half a league " * ' the mouth of Hell ' ' 

*the jaws of Death" ** dismayed" '* volley 'd and thunder 'd" 



John Gilpin was a citizen 

Of credit and renown, 
A trainband captain eke was he 

Of famous London town. 

5 John Gilpin's sponge said to her dear, 

"Though wedded we have been 
These twice ten tedious years, yet we 
No holiday have seen. 

"Tomorrow is our wedding day, 
1^ And we will then repair 

Unto the Bell at Edmonton, 
All in a chaise and pair. 

26 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Foui 

"My Bister, and my sister's child. 
Myself, and children three, 
15 Will fill the chaise, so you must ride 

On horseback after we." 

He soon replied, "I do admire 

Of womankind but one. 
And you are she, my dearest dear, 
20 Therefore, it shall be done. 

"I am a linen-draper bold, 

As all the world doth know. 
And my good f riend„ the calender. 

Will lend his horse to go.'' 

25 Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said: 

And for that wine is dear, 
We will be furnished with our own, 
Which is both bright and clear." 

, John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; 

30 O'erjoyed was he to find 

That, though on pleasure she was bent, 
She had a frugal mind. 

The morning came, the chaise was brought. 
But yet was not allowed 
35 To drive up to the door, lest all 

Should say that she was proud. 

So three doors off the chaise was stayed, 

Where they did all get in ; 
Six precious souls, and all agog 
40 To dash through thick and thin. 

Smack went the whip, 'round went the wheels. 

Were never folks so glad ; 
The stones did rattle underneath 

As if Cheapside were mad. 

The Diverting History of John Oilpin 27 

45 John Gilpin at his horse's side 

Seized fast the flowing mime. 
And up he got, in haste to ride. 
But soon came down again; 

For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, 
50 His journey to begin, 

When^ turning round his head, he saw 
Three customers come in. 

So down he came ; for loss of time. 
Although it grieved him sore, 
55 Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 

Would trouble him much more. 

'Twas long before the customers 

Were suited to their mind, 
When Betty screaming came down stairs, — 
60 "The wine is left behind !" 

*'Gk)od lack 1" quoth he, "yet bring it me. 

My leathern belt likewise, 
In which I bear my trusty sword 

When I do exercise." 

^ * Now Mrs. Gilpin, careful soul, 

Had two stone bottles found, 
To hold the liquor that she loved, 
And keep it safe and sound. 

Each bottle had a curling ear, 
^0 Through which the belt he drew. 

And hung a bottle on each side. 
To make his balance true. 

Then, over all, that he might be 
Equipped from top to toe, 
'S His long red cloak, well brushed and neat. 

He manfully did throw. 

28 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Now see him mounted once again. 

Upon his nimble steed. 
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones 
80 With caution and good heed. 

But finding soon a smoother road 
Beneath his well-shod feet, 

The snorting beast began to trot. 
Which galled him in his seat. 

85 So "Fair and softl/' John he cried, 

But John he cried in vain ; 
That trot became a gallop €oon, 
In spite of curb and rein. 

So stooping down, as needs he must 
80 Who cannot sit upright. 

He grasped the mane with both his hands. 
And eke with all his might. 

His horse, which never in that sort 
Had handled been before, 
85 What thing upon his back had got 

Did wonder more and more. 

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; 

Away went hat and wig; 
He little dreamed when he set out 
100 Of running such a rig. 

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly. 
Like streamer long and gay. 

Till, loop and button failing both, 
At last it flew away. 

105 Then might all people well discern. 

The bottles he had slung ; 
A bottle swinging at each side. 
As hath been said or sung. 

The Diverting History of John Oilpin 29 

The dogs did bark, the children screamed, 
^^® Up flew the windows all, 

And every soul cried out, "Well done !'' 
As loud as he could bawl. 

Away went Gilpin — ^who but he? 
His fame soon spread around ; 
^15 "He carries weight, he rides a race ! 

Tis for a thousand pound V 

And still, as fast as he drew near, 

Twas wonderful to view, 
How in a trice the turnpike men 
120 Their gates wide open threw. 

And now, as he went bowing down 

His reeking head full low, 
The bottles twain behind his back 

Were shattered at a blow. 

125 Down ran the wine into the road, 

Most piteous to be seen. 
Which made his horse's flanks to smoke 
As they had basted been. 

But still he seemed to carry weight, 
130 With leathern girdle braced ; 

For all might see the bottle necks 
Still dangling at his waist. 

Thus all through merry Islington 
These gambols he did play, 
135 Until he came unto the wash 

Of Edmonton so gay; 

And there he threw the wash about 

On both sides of the way. 
Just like unto a trundling mop, 
140 Or a wild goose at play. 

30 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

At Edmonton his loving wife 

From the balcony spied 
Her tender husband, wondering much 

To see how he did ride. 

145 * * Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! Here 's the house ! " 

They all at once did cry ; 
**The dinner waits and we are tired." 
Said Gilpin, *'So am I!'' 

But yet his horse was not a whit 
150 Inclined to tarry there; 

For why ? his owner had a house 
Full ten miles oflf, at Ware. 

So like an arrow swift he flew, 
Shot by an archer strong; 
155 So did he fly — which brings me to 

The middle of my song. 

Away went Gilpin, out of breath, 

And sore against his will, 
Till, at his friend the calender's, 
160 His horse at last citood still. 

The calender, amazed to see 

His neighbor in such trim, 
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate. 

And thus accosted him : 

165 **What news? what news? your tidings tell; 

Tell me you must and shall ; 
Say why bareheaded you are come. 
Or why you come at all?" 

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 
170 And loved a timely joke ; 

And thus unto the calender. 
In merry guise, he spoke : 

The Diverting History of John Oilpin 31 

"I came because your horse would come; 
And, if I well f orbode, 
175 My hat and wig will soon be here : — 

They are upon the road.'* 

The calender, right glad to find 

His friend in merry pin, 
Returned him not a single word, 
180 But to the house went in ; 

Whence straight he came with hat and wig; 

A wig that flowed behind, 
A hat not much the worse for wear, 

Each comely in its kind. 

185 He held them up and in his turn 

Thus showed his ready wit : 
"My head is twice as big as yours, 
They, therefore, needs must fit. 

But let me scrape the dirt away 
190 That hangs upon your face; 

And stop and eat, for well you may 
Be in a hungry case." 

Said John, *'It is my wedding day, 
And all the world would stare, 
195 If wife should dine at Edmonton 

And I should dine at Warer." 

So, turning to his horse, he said, 

'*I am in haste to dine; 
Twas for your pleasure you came here, 
200 You shall go back for mine." 

Ah ! luckless speech and bootless boast. 

For which he paid full dear; 
For while he spake, a braying ass 

Did sing most loud and clear ; 

32 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

205 Whereat his horse did snort, as he 

Had heard a lion roar. 
And galloped off with all his might. 
As he had done before. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
210 Went Gilpin's hat and wig : 

He lost them sooner than at first ; 
For why? — they were too big* 

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 
Her husband posting down 
215 Into the country far away, 

She pulled out half a crown; 

And thus unto the youth she said. 

That drove them to the Bell, 
"This shall be yours when you bring back 
220 My husband safe and well." 

The youth did ride, and soon did meet 
John coming back amain; 

Whom in a trice he tried to stop 
By catching at his rein ; 

225 But not performing what he meant 

And gladly would have done, 
The frightened steed he frighted more. 
And made him faster run. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
230 Went postboy at his heels. 

The postbo/s horse right glad to miss 
The lumbering of the wheels. 

Six gentlemen upon the road. 
Thus seeing Gilpin fly, 
235 With postboy scampering in the rear. 

They raised the hue and cry ; — 

The Diverting History of John Oilpin 

"Stop thief I stop thief ! a highwayman I" 

Not one of them was mute ; 
And all and each that passed that way 
2^ Did join in the pursuit. 

And now the turnpike gates again 
Flew open in short space ; 

The toll-men thinking as before. 
That Gilpin rode a race. 

245 And so he did, and won it too, 

For he got first to town ; 
Nor stopped. till where he had got up 
He did again get down. 

Now let us sing "Long Live the King," 
250 And Gilpin, long live he ; 

And when he next doth ride abroad 
May I be there to see ! 


Biographical: William Cowper, 1731-1800, was a famous English 
poet. His poems range from religious to humorous subjects. 

Notes and Questions 

What was the occasion of the ride I 
What tells you that the linen- 
draper lived over his shop? 
Which stanza is most amusing? 

Why did people think John Gilpin 

rode for a wager I 
Edmonton — a suburb of London. 
The Bell— the Inn. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"calender" ''gambols" **for that wine is dear" 

'*eke'' ''trainband" "turnpike" 

"chaise and pair" "repair" "basted" 

' ' frugal " "he carries weight " " bootless boast ' ' 

"the postboy's horse right glad to miss the lumbering of the wheels" 

34 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 




I SPRANG to the stirrup^ and Joris, and he; 
I galloped, Direk galloped, we galloped all three ; 
"Good speed !" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew ; 
"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;. 
5 Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace 
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place ; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
10 Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit. 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near 
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 
IS At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see ; 
At Diiffeld, ^twas morning as plain as could be ; 
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half -chime. 
So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time !" 

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
20 And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past. 
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last. 
With resolute shoulders^ each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray : 

25 And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track ; 
And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! 

Eow They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix 36 

And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon 
30 His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, "Stay spur ! 
Your Eoos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, 
We'll remember at Aix" — for one heard the quick wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, 
35 And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, 
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 
^ 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 
Till over by Dalhem, a dome-spire sprang white. 
And "Qallop,^^ gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight !" 

"How the/11 greet us!" — and all in a moment his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
45 And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate. 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim. 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, 
SO Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all. 
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; 
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, 
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

55 And all I remember is — friends flocking round 

As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine. 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 

60 Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. 

36 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 


Biographical and Historical: Bobert Browning was bom in a suburb 
of London in 1812. His four grandparents were respectively of English, 
German, Scotch, and Creole birth. After his marriage with the poet, 
Elizabeth Barrett, he lived in Italy, where in the old palace Casa Guidi, 
in Florence, they spent years of rare companionship and happiness. 
After her death he returned to England, but spent most of his summers 
abroad. On the Grand Canal, in Venice, the gondoliers point out a 
palace where at his son's home. Browning died in 1889. He was buried 
in the Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey. 

Browning's poems are not easy to read, because he condenses so 
much into a word or phrase and he often leaves large gaps to be filled 
in by the reader's imagination. Any one can make selections of lines 
and even entire poems from Tennyson, Poe, Southey, and Lanier, in 
which the poet has created for us verbal music and beauty. Browning, 
however, is not so much concerned with this side of poetry as he is with 
portraying correctly the varied emotions of the human soul. 

* * Love in the largest sense, as the divine principle working through 
all nature, is at the very center of Browning's creed. His is the 
heartiest, happiest, most beautiful poetic voice that his age has read. He 
stands apart from most others of his kind and age in the positiveness of 
his religious faith, a faith that is based upon a conviction of the 
conquering universality of love and self-sacrifice." 

**How They Brought the Good News" is without historical basis; 
the ride occurred only in the imagination of the poet. The inspiration 
came from Browning's longing for a horseback gallop over the English 

Notes and Questions 
Find Ghent and Aix la Chapelle on What does the fifth stanza tell 

your map. 
What was probably the nature of 

the **good news" carried by the 

How many messengers were 

What makes you think so? 

What tells you the praise given 

The rhythm suggests the gallop of 

the horses. In which lines is 

this suggestion most marked? 
Indicate the rhythmic movement. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"postern" "pique" "askance" "burgesses" 

"stirrup" "twilight" "haunches" "holster" • 

"Good speed I cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew" 
"With resolute shoulders each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray" 

Incident of the French Camp 37 



You know, we French stormed Batisbon : 

A mile or so away. 
On a little mound. Napoleon 

Stood on our storming-day ; 
5 With neck out-thnist, you fancy how. 

Legs wide, arms locked behind, 
As if to balance the prone brow 

Oppressive with its mind. 

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans 
10 That soar, to earth may fall. 

Let once my army-leader, Lannes, 

Waver at yonder walV^ — 
Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew 
A rider, bound on bound 
IS Full-galloping; nor bridle drew 

Until he reached the mound. 

Then off there flung in smiling joy. 

And held himself erect 
By just his horse^s mane, a boy : 
20 You hardly could suspect — 

(So tight he kept his lips compressed. 

Scarce any blood came through) 
You looked twice ere you saw his breast 

Was all but shot in two. 

25 '"Well,'' cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace, 

We've got you Batisbon ! 
The marshal's in the market-place. 

And you'll be there anon 
To see your flag-bird flap his vans 
30 Where I, to heart's desire. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Booh Four 



Perched him !" The chiefs e)'e flashed ; his plans 
Soared up again like fire. 

The chiefs eye flashed ; hut presently 

Softened itself^ as sheathes 
A film the mother eagle's eye 

When her bruised eaglet breathes : 
"You're wounded 1" *^ay/' the soldier's pride 

Touched to the qiiick, he said : 
"I'm killed, sire I" And his chief beside, 

Smiling, the boy fell dead. 

Notes and Questions 

On your map find Batisbon on the 
Danube Biver. 

What picture have you of Na- 
poleon from reading this poem? 

What word used figuratively tells 
you of the rider's speed? 

Tell the story of the boy rider. 
What was the mission of the boy 

who rode alone? 
Was his heroism greater because he 

was alone? 

' Words and Phrases for Discussion 

** stormed" "waver" ''sheathes" 

* * soar " " battery-smokes " * ' film ' ' 

' * prone " * * vans ' ' 



On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two. 

Did the English fight the French — woe to France ! 
And the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue. 
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, 
5 Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Ranee, 
With the English fleet in view. 

Herve Kiel 39 

'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase ; 
First and iforiemost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville; 
Close on him fled, great and small. 
Twenty-two good ships in all; 
And they signalled to the place, 
"Help the winners of a race 1 

Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick — or, quicker still. 
Here's the English can and will I" 

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board ; 
"Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?'* 
laughed they: 
"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and 

scored, — 
Shall the formidable' here, with her twelve and eighty guns. 

Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, 
Trust to enter — ^where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons. 
And with flow at full beside? 
Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide. 
Beach the mooring? Rather say. 
While rock stands or water runs. 
Not a ship will leave the bay 1'* 

Then was called a council straight. 

Brief and bitter the debate : 

"Here's the English at our heels ; would you have them take in tow 

All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, 

For a prize to Plymouth Sound ? Better run the ships aground !" 

(Ended Damfreville his speech). 
"Not a minute more to wait ! 

Let the captains all and each 

Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach ! 
France must undergo her fate. 

"Give the word !" But no such word 
Was ever spoke or heard: 

For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, amid all these, — 
A captain? a lieutenant? a mate, — first, second, third? 

40 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

^ No such man of mark, and meet 

With his betters to compete ! 

But a simple Breton sailor, pressed by Tourville for the fleet, 
A poor coasting-pilot, he, — Herve Riel, the Croisickese. 

And *TI7hat mockery or malice have we here?" cried Herve Biel. 
45 "Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues ? 
Talk to me of rocks and shoals? — ^me, who took the soundings, tell 
On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell, 

'Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river disembogues ? 
Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? 
50 Mom and eve, night and day. 

Have I piloted your bay, 
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. 

Bum the fleet, and ruin France? That were worse than fifty 

Hogues ! 
Sirs, they know I speak the trath! Sirs, believe me, there's a 
55 Only let me lead the line, 

Have the biggest ship to steer. 
Get this Formidable clear, 
Make the others follow mine. 

And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, 
60 Right to Solidor past Greve, . 

And there lay them safe and sound; 
And if one ship misbehave, — 

Keel so much as grate the ground, 
Why, I've nothing but my life, — ^here's my head!" cries Herve 

65 Xot a minute more to wait. 

"Steer us in, then, small and great ! 

Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its 
Captains, give the sailor place! 
He is Admiral, in brief. 
70 Still the north-wind, by God's grace ! 
See the noble fellow's face 
As the big ship, with a bound. 

Herve Riel 41 

Clears the entry like a hound, 
• Keeps the passage, ,as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound ! 
W See, safe thro' shoal and rock. 
How they follow in a flock, 

Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground. 
Not a spar that comes to grief ! 

The peril, see, is past. 
» All are harbored to the last. 

And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor !" sure as fate. 

Up the English come, — ^too late ! 

So, the storm subsides to calm : 
They see the green trees wave 
iS On the heights overlooking Greve. 
Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. 
"Just our rapture to enhance, 

liCt the English rake the bay. 
Gnash their teeth and glare askance 
90 As they cannonade away ! 
'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Ranee!" 
How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance I 
Out burst all with one accord, 
"This is paradise for hell! 
95 Let France, let Francois king, 

Thank the man that did the thing !" 
What a shout, and all one word, 

"Herve Riel!" 
As he stepped in front once more ; 
100 Not a symptom of surprise 

In the frank blue Breton eyes, — 
Just the same man as before. 

Then said Damf reville, "My friend, 
I must speak out at the end, 
105 Though I find the speaking hard; 
Praise is deeper than the lips : 
You have saved the king his ships ; 
You must name your own reward. 
Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! 


Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

110 Demand whatever you will, 

France remains your debtor still. 

Ask to heart's content, and have ! or my name's not Damfreville." 

Then a beam of fun outbroke 
On the bearded mouth that spoke, 
115 As the honest heart laughed through 

Those frank eyes of Breton blue : — 
"Since I needs must say my say, 

Since on board the duty's done, 

And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run! 
120 Since 'tis ask and have, I may— 

Since the others go ashore — 
Come! A good whole holiday! 

Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore !'* 

That he asked and that he got, — nothing more. 

125 Name and deed alike are lost : 
Not a pillar nor a post 

In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; 
Not a head in white and black 
On a single fishing-smack, 
130 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 

All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the 
Go to Paris : rank on rank 

Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
On the Louvre, face and flank ! 
135 ^"^^ ^^^^^ '^^^ '^°^ enough ere you come to Herve Kiel. 
So, for better and for worse, Herv^ Kiel, accept my verse ! 
In my verse, Herv6 Riel, do thou once more 
Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore ! 

Kotw and Qnestioiui 

Find on vonr map: Saint Malo, le 
Croisic (St. Croisic), Plymouth 
Sound. Paris. 

What forfeit did Herv6 Riel pro- 
pose in case he failed to pilot 
the ships safely int 

The Bugle Song 


What ships were seeking harbor f 
Who were the "porpoises" and 
who the ** sharks"! 

What reward did he claim! 

What comparison is found in the 
first stanza! 

What do stanzas three and four 
. tell! 

In what way is the hero's mem- 
ory perpetuated! 

The rhythm gives spirit to the 
poem. Which lines or stanzas 
are most spirited! 

What line gives the key-note to 

Herv6 Biel's character! 
Contrast Herv6 Biel with the local 

Saint Malo^noted for its high 

tides. ' 
Bance — name of a river. 
The Hogue — ^a cape on the French 

Malouins — residents of Saint Halo. 
Tourville — the French admiral. 
Gr5ve — name given the beach. 
Solidor — the old fortress. 
Belle Aurore — the dawn. 
Groisickese — inhabitants of Croisic. 

Words and Phrases for DiseossloiL 

''Worse than fifty Hogues" 
** Clears the entry like a hound" 
''Just the same man as before" 
"He is Admiral, in brief" 
^' Keeps the passage as its inch of 
way were the wide sea's pro- 
found ' ' 

"Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
on the Louvre, face and flank" 
' * pressed * ' 
' * disembogues * * 
"bore the bell" 

(From "The Princess") 


The splendor falls on castle walls 

And snowy summits, old in story ; 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying; 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

0, hark ! 0, hear ! how thin and clear, 
And thinner, clearer, farther going! 

44 Ehon Orammar School Reader Book Four 

0, sweet and far from cliff and scar, 
10 The horns of Elfland, faintly blowing ! 

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying; 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

0, love, they die in yon rich sky; 
They faint on hill or field or river. 
15 Our echoes roll from soxd to soul. 

And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying; 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

Notes and Questions 

Why does the poet use "splendor" 
instead of * * sun-set, * ' and * * sum- 
mits" instead of ** mountains "I 

•Line 2 — What is meant by **old 
in story"! 

Line 3 — Why does the poet use 

Line 13 — To what does "they" 
relate f 

Line 15 — Explain. 

Line 15 — ^Why does the poet use 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"wild echoes" "horns of Elfland" "purple glens" 

"cliff and scar" "rich sky" 


Line 16— They * « die ' ' and " faint 
while "our echoes" "roU" and 
"grow." Note that "grow" is 
the important word. 

Note the refrain and the changes 
in its use; in the first stanza — 
the bugle; in the second — the 
echo; in the third — the spiritual 

Point out lines that have rhyme 
within themselves. 



I COME from haunts of coot and hern, 

I make a sudden sally, 
And sparkle out among the fern. 

To bicker down a valley. 

The Brook 45 


By thirty hills I hurry down, 
Or slip between the ridges. 

By twenty thorps, a little town. 
And half a hundred bridges. 

Till last by Philip's farm I flow 
To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go. 
But I go on forever. 

I chatter over stony ways, 
In little sharps and trebles; 
15 I bubble into eddying bays, 

I babble on the pebbles. 

With many a curve my banks I fret 

By many a field and fallow. 
And many a fairy foreland set 
20 With willow-weed and mallow. 

I chatter, chatter, as I flow 
To join the brimming river. 

For men may come and men may go. 
But I go on forever. 

25 I wind about, and in and out. 

With here a blossom sailing. 
And here and there a lusty trout. 
And here and there a grayling. 

And here and there a foamy flake 
30 Upon me, as I travel 

With many a silvery water-break 
Above the golden gravel, 

And draw them all along, and flow 
To join the brimming river, 
35 For men may come and men may go. 

But I go on forever. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 




I steal by lawns and grassy plots^ 
. I slide by hazel covers ; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 
That grow for happy lovers. 

I slip^ I slide, I gloom, I glan<^e. 
Among my skimming swallows ; 

I make the netted sunbeams dance 
Against my sandy sliallows. 

I murmur under moon and stars 

In brambly wildernesses ; 
I linger by my shingly bars, 

I loiter round my cresses; 

And out again I curve and flow 
To join the brimming river. 

For men may come and men may go. 
But I go on forever. 

Nofefls and Qnestioiis 

These stanzas are part of a longer 

poem caUed *'The Brook.'' 
In this poem Tennyson personifies 

the brook. Why? 
In what lines do the words and the 

rhvthm suggest the sonnd of the 

Which lines do this most success- 
fully ? 
Point out words that seem to you 

espet^ially appropriate in giving 

the thought: 
Where in the poem do we find a 

meaning for the following lines: 
**Oh! of all the songs sung 

Xo 5cngs are so sweet 
As the songs with refrains 

Which repeat and repeat.** 

How does the repetition of ''chat- 
ter" influence the melody of the 
first line in the sixth stanza? 
How does it affect the thought? 

Find another place in the poem 
where an expression is repeated. 

Was this done for the sake of the 
rhythm, or the thought, or for 

Alliteration is the repetition of the 
same letter or sound at the be- 
ginning of two or more words in 
close succession. 

find lines in which alliteration is 
used e. g. ' ' sadden saUy , " " field 
and faUow,*' etc. What does 
this add to the poemt 

Song of the Chattahoochee 


Indicate the rhythm of the first four lines by placing them in these 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

**coot and hern" (heron) 
** bicker" "thorps" 

* * fairy foreland * ' 
**^w^illow weed and mallow" 

* * grayling " * * water-break ' * 
** covers" **brambly" 

"shingly bars" "eddying" 
"faUow" "babble" 
"cresses" "brimming" 
"sharps and trebles" 
"skimming swallows" 
"netted sunbeams" 





Out of the hills of Habersham, 
. Down the valleys of Hall, 
I hurry amain to reach the plain. 
Run the rapid and leap the fall; 
Split at the rock and together again. 
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide. 
And flee from folly on every side 
With a lover^s pain to attain the plain 
Far from the hills of Habersham, 
Far from the valleys of Hall. 

All down the hills of Habersham, 
All through the valleys of Hall, 
The rushes cried, "Abide, abide,'^ 
The wilful water-weeds held me thrall, 
The laving laurel turned my tide. 

• From "Poems of Sidney Lanier*' ; copyright 1884, 1801, by Mary D. 
LAnier ; published by Charles Seribner's Sons. 

48 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

The ferns and the fondling grass said, "Stay/* 
The dewberry dipped for to work delay, 
And the little reeds sighed, "Abide, abide,'* 
Here in the hills of Habersham, 
20 Here in the valleys of Hall. 

High o'er the hills of Habersham, 

Veiling the valleys of Hall, 
The hickory told me manifold 
Fair tales of shade; the poplar tall 
25 Wrought me her shadowy self to hold; 

The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, 
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign. 

Said: "Pass not so cold, these manifold 

Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, 
30 These glades in the valleys of Hall." 

And oft in the hills of Habersham, 

And oft in the valleys of Hall, 
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook stone 
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl; 
35 And many a. luminous jewel lone 

(Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist, 

Euby, garnet, or amethyst) 

Made lures with the lights of streaming stone 

In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, 
40 In the beds of the valleys of Hall. 

But oh! not the hills of Habersham, 

And oh ! not the valleys of Hall 
Avail ; I am fain for to water the plain. 
Downward the voices of Duty call ; 
45 Downward to toil and be mixed with the main. 

The dry fields burn and the mills are to turn. 
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, 
And the lordly main from beyond the plain 

Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, 
SO Calls through the valleys of Hall. 

Song of the CJtattahoochee 


Biographical and Historical: The South has given us two most melo- 
dious singers, Poe and Lanier. When only nineteen Sidney Lanier en- 
listed in the Confederate army, and the close of the war found him 
broken in health, with little else in the world than a brave wife and a 
brave heart. When his health permitted he played the flute in an orches- 
tra in Baltimore. The rhythm, the rhyme and the melodious words of 
his poetry all show him the passionate lover of music that he was. 
Among his prose writings, **The Boy's Froissarf and "The Boy's 
King Arthur ' ' are of especial interest to young readers. 

Notes and Questions 

Find the Chattahoochee river on 
your map with its source in the 
''hills of Habersham" and its 
course through the ** valleys of 

Compare this poem with Tenny- 
son's '*The Brook." 

What is peculiar in the phrases: 
**run the rapid," **flee from 
folly, " * ' wilful waterweeds, ' ' 
''loving laurel," etc. 

Find alliteration in other lines. 

What is added to the poem by 

Notice the rhythm in the third line 
of the first stanza. 

What is the peculiarity of the 
eighth line of the first stanza! 

Find lines in the other stanzas 
which contain rhymes. Notice 
the last word in each of these 
lines. What two things have 
you found out? 

Lanier believed that poetry is a 
kind of music. Does the rhythm 
in this poem sustain this defini- 

Point out lines that are especially 
musical and pleasing. 

Habersham ) Counties in north* 

Hall f em Georgia. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"laving laurel" "lordly main" "veiling the valleys" 

"fondling grass" "run the rapid" "flickering meaning" 

"friendly brawl" "leap the fall" "the mills are to turn" 

* * made lures " " hurry amain " " I am fain for to water the plain ' ' 


50 Ehon Orammar School Reader Book Four 



**How does the water 

Come down at LodoreP' 
My little boy asked me 

Thus, once on a time; 
5 And, moreover, he tasked me 

To tell him in rhyme. 
Anon at the word, 
There first came one daughter, 

And then came another, 
10 To second and third 

The request of their brother. 
And to hear how the water 
Comes down at Lodore, 
With its rush and its roar, 
15 As many a time 

They had seen it before. 

So I told them in rhyme — 
For of rhymes I had store ; 
And ^twas my vocation 
20 For their recreation 

That so I should sing; 
Because I was Laureate 

To them and the king. 

From its sources, which well 
25 In the tarn on the fell ; 

From its fountains 

In the mountains. 
Its rills and its gills; 
Through moss and through brake, 
30 It runs and it creeps 

For a while, till it sleeps 
In its own little lake. 
And thence, at departing, 

The Cataract of Lodore 51 

Awakening and starting, 
35 It runs through the reeds, 

And away it proceeds, 

.Through meadow and glade. 

In sun and in shade. 

And through the wood shelter, 
40 Among crags in its flurry. 


Here it comes sparkling. 

And there it lies darkling; 
45 Now smoking and frothing 

In tumult and wrath in, 

Till, in this rapid race 
On which it is bent. 

It reaches the place 
50 Of its steep descent. 

The cataract strong 

Then plunges along. 

Striking and raging. 

As if a war waging 
55 Its caverns and rocks among; 

Rising and leaping, 

Sinking and creeping. 

Swelling and sweeping. 

Showering and springing, 
60 Flying and flinging. 

Writhing and ringing. 

Eddying and whisking. 

Spouting and frisking. 

Turning and twisting, 
65 Around and around 

With endless rebound ; 

Smiting and fighting, 

A sight to delight in ; 

Confounding, astounding, 
70 Dizzying, and deafening the ear with its sound. 

52 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Collecting, projecting, 
Beceding and speeding. 
And shocking and rocking. 
And darting and parting, 

75 And threading and spreading, 

And whizzing and hissing, 
And dripping and skipping. 
And hitting and splitting. 
And shining and twining, 

80 And rattling and battling. 

And shaking and quaking. 
And pouring and roaring. 
And waving and raving. 
And tossing and crossing, 

85 And flowing and going, 

And running and stunning, 
And foaming and roaming. 
And dinning and spinning, 
And dropping and hopping, 

90 And working and jerking, 

And guggling and struggling, 
And heaving and cleaving. 
And moaning and groaning, 

And glittering and frittering, 
95 And gathering and feathering, 

And whitening and brightening. 
And quivering and shivering. 
And hurrying and skurrying. 
And thundering and floundering ; 

100 Dividing and gliding and sliding, 

And falling and brawling and sprawling, 
And driving and riving and striving. 
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling. 
And sounding and bounding and rounding, 

105 And bubbling and troubling and doubling, 

And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 
And chattering and battering and shattering; 

The Cataract of Lodore 


Eetreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, 
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, 

110 Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 
Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling and boiling, 
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming. 
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, 
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping, 

115 And curling and whirling and purling and twirling, • 
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping. 
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing; 
And so never ending, but always descending, 
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, 

120 AH at once, and all o'er, with a mighty uproar : 

And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 


BiograpMcal: Robert Southey, 1774-1843, was a great English poet. 
In 1813 he was made poet laureate. 

Notes and Questions 

Who was ''laureate"! What is 

it to be ''laureate'*? 
Who was the king to whom 

Southey was poet-laureate I 
To whom beside the king does he 

say he is laureate? 
What do you think he means by 

Find this cataract on your map 

(Derwent River in Cumberland). 
What is a cataract? Have you 

ever seen one? 

Find changes in rhythm as the 

stream advances. 
Where in the poem does Southey 

first use lines in which two words 

rhyme? In which three words 
• rhyme? 
Why does the poet use all these 

Compare the first and second 

stanzas as to rate. 
Point out lines that are especially 

pleasing to you. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

'* cataract" 









54 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 



Heab the sledges with the bells — 
Silver bells ! 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 
5 In the icy air of night! 

While the stars that oversprinkle 
All the heavens, seem to twinkle 
With a crystalline delight; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
10 In a sort of Runic rhyme. 

To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells— 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

15 Hear the mellow wedding-bells. 

Golden bells! 
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their delight ! 
20 From the molten-golden notes, 

And all in tune, 
What a liquid ditty floats 
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats 
On the moon! 
25 Oh, from out the sounding cells 

What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! 
How it swells! 
How it dwells 
On the Future! how it tells 
30 Of the rapture that impels 

To the swinging and the ringing 
Of the bells, bells, bells— 

The Bells 55 

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. 
Bells, bells, bells — 
35 To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! 

Hear the loud alarum bells — 
Brazen bells! 
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! 
In the startled ear of night 
40 How they scream out their affright ! 

Too much horrified to speak. 
They can only shriek, shriek. 
Out of tune. 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
45 In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire 
Leaping higher, higher, higher. 
With a desperate desire, 
And a resolute endeavor, 
Now — now to sit or never, 
50 By the side of the pale-faced moon. 

Oh, the bells, bells, bells! 
What a tale their terror tells 
Of despair! 
How they clang, and clash, and roar ! 
55 What a horror they outpour 

On the bosom of the palpitating air ! 
Yet the ear it fully knows. 
By the twanging 
And the clanging, 
60 How the danger ebbs and fiows; 

Yet the ear distinctly tells. 
In the jangling. 
And the wrangling. 
How the danger sinks and swells, 
65 By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells — 
Of the bells— 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. 
Bells, bells, bells — 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! 

56 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

70 Hear the tolling of the bells — 

Iron bells 1 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! 
In the silence of the night. 
How we shiver with affright 
75 At the melancholy menace of their tone ! 

For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats 

Is a groan. 
And the people — ah, the people — 
80 They that dwell up in the steeple, 

All alone. 
And who tolling, tolling, tolling, 

In that muiHed monotone. 
Feel a glory in so rolling 
85 On the human heart a stone — '■ 

They are neither man nor woman — 
They are neither brute nor human—^ 

They are Ghouls: 
And their king it is who tolls; 
90 And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 

A paean from the bells! 
And his merry bosom swells 
With the paean of the bells! 
95 And he dances, and he yells; 

Keeping time, time, time. 
In a sort of Bunic rhyme. 
To the paean of the bells — 
Of the bells: 
100 Keeping time, time, time. 

In a sort of Runic rhyme, 

To the throbbing of the bells — 

Of the bells, bells, bells— 
To the sobbing of the bells ; 
105 Keeping time, time, time, 

As he knells, knells, knells, 
In a happy Runic rhyme, 

Annabel Lee 


To the rolling of the bells — 
Of the bells, bells, bell&— 
110 To the tolling of the bells. 

Of the bells, bells, bells, bell&— 
Bells, bells, bells — 
To. the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 


Biographical and Historical: Edgar Allan Poe was born in Boston on 
January 19th, 1809. Both his parents were members of a theatrical 
troupe then playing in Boston. He was left an orphan at the age of three 
years, and was adopted by a wealthy Virginia planter and by him 
educated in England and elsewhere. Owing to his erratic habits, Poe's 
foster-father disowned him, and after that life for him was a constant 
battle with poverty. His prose tales abound in adventure, allegory, and 
the supernatural. His poetry is full of imagery, beauty, and melody. 

Notes jmd Questions 

What kinds of bells does the poet 
seek to reproduce the sound of? 

Which bells has he described best? 

Point out words particularly suited 
to express the sound they de- 

Which lines are especially musical 

and pleasing? 
What can you say of the fire-bells 

of today? 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 
' euphony " ' ' tintinnabulation " ' ' expostulation ' ' 

* Runic " * * crystalline " * * palpitating ' ' 



It was many and many a year ago. 

In a kingdom by the sea, 
That a maiden there lived whom you may know 

By the name of Annabel Lee; 
And this maiden she lived with no other thought 

Than to love and be loved by me. 

58 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

I was a child and she was a child, 

In this kingdom by the sea: 
But we loved with a love that was more than love — 
10 I and my Annabel Lee; 

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven 

Coveted her and me. 

And this was the reason that, long ago, 
In this kingdom by the sea, 
15 A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 
My beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
So that her highborn kinsmen came 

And bore her away from me. 
To shut her up in a sepulchre 
20 In this kingdom by the sea. 

The angels, not half so happy in heaven. 

Went envying her and me — 
Yes! — ^that was the reason (as all men know. 

In this kingdom by the sea) 
25 That the wind came out of tiie cloud by night. 

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love 

Of those who were older than we — 

Of many far wiser than we — 
30 And neither the angels in heaven above. 

Nor the demons down under the sea. 
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 
35 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by. the side 
Of my darling, — ^my darling, — my life and my bride, 
40 In the sepulchre there by the sea. 
In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

Opportunity 59 

Notes and Questions 

Like ''The Bells," this poem is 

musical and the words are 

chosen with reference to this 

Notice that the repetition of the 

word **many" adds to the music 

of the first line. 
Find other lines in which a word 

is repeated for the sake of 

Find lines in which rhymes occur. 

Words and Phrases for Discnssion 
** winged seraphs'' ''sounding sea" "sepulchre" 

Mention lines that are especially 
pleasing to you. 

What reason is given for the death 
of Annabel Lee? 

Why did the angels "covet" and 
"envy" the lovers? 

How strong was this love? 

Why does not the lover feel sepa- 
rated from Annabel Lee? 

Do you like this poem? Why? 



This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: — 

There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; * 
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged 
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords 

5 Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner 
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. 
A craven hung along the battle's edge. 
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel — 
That blue blade that the king^s son bears, — ^but this 

10 Blunt thing — !" he snapt and flung it from his hand. 
And lowering crept away and left the field. 
Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead. 
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword. 
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, 

15 And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout 
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down. 
And saved a great cause that heroic day. 

* By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 


Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Biographical: Edward Rowland Sill was bdrn in Connectieat in 
1841. He graduated at Yale and lived most of his life in California, 
being for some years professor of English language and literature at the 
State University. Sill was a true poet, but the whole of his literary 
output is contained in two slender volumes. His poems are noted for 
their compressed thought. The selection here given shows this quality. 

Notes and 
What do you learn from this poem? 
Where was the craven when he 

decided his sword was useless! 
What word shows that he was 

there of his own choice? 
What kind of sword had the 

What words tell you that he was 
• greatly needed in the thick of 

the conflict? 
What kind of sword had the king 's 

How long did the king's son look 

at the discarded sword before 


using it? 

If the battle represents life, and 
the craven and the king's son 
are types of the people in the 
world, what do you think the 
swords represent? 

Why is this poem called ''Oppor- 

Can you think of another title 
which might be given to it? 

Such a story as this is called an 

' * furious ' ' — What is a furious bat- 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 
'craven" '* bestead" '*hung along the battle's edge' 

'shocked" ** hemmed by foes" 



Whither, midst falling dew, 
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day. 
Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue 

Thy solitary way? 

Vainly the fowler's eye 
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, 
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, 

Thy figure floats along. 

To a Waterfowl 61 

Seek'st thou the plashy brink 
10 Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 

Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 
On the chafed ocean-side? 

There is a Power wh9se care 
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — 
15 The desert and illimitable air, — 

Lone wandering, but not lost. 

All day thy wings have fanned. 
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, 
"Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, . 
20 Though the dark night is near. 

And soon that toil shall end; 
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest. 
And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend 

Soon o^er thy sheltered nest. 

25 Thou'rt gone ; the abyss of heaven 

Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart 
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given. 
And shall not soon depart. 

He who, from zone to zone, 
30 Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight. 

In the long way that I must tread alone 
Will lead my steps aright. 


Biographical and Historical: William Cullen Bryant was born in 
1794 in Western Massachusetts. His education was carried on in the 
district school. At home he had the use of an exceptionally fine library, 
for that period^ and he made the most of its opportunities. In 1816 he 
eecured a license to practice law, and journeyed on foot to Plainfield, 
Mass., to look for a place to open an office. He felt forlorn and desolate, 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

and the world seemed big and cold. In this mood, while pausing on his 
way to contemplate the beauty of the sunset, he saw a solitary bird -wing 
its way along the horizon. He watched it until it was lost in the 
distance. Then he pursued his journey with new courage and on 
arriving at the place where he was to stop for the night, he sat down and 
wrote this beautiful poem of faith and hope. 

Notes and Questions 

What lines tell you the time of 

"Which stanza do you like bestf 

What lines give you the most beau- 

tiful picture! 
What does the poet learn from the 

Note that the rhythm gives the 

impression of the bird's flight. 

Words and Phiases for Discussion 
"thy solitary way" "rosy depths" "thin atmosphere" 
' ' the * fowler 's eye " • * long way ' ' * * welcome land ' ' 

"that toil shall end" "tread alone" "boundless sky" 
"last steps of day" "certain flight" **lone wandering but not lost' 
"chafed ocean-side" "pathless coast" 
"the abyss of heaven hath swallowed up thy form" 




Bird of the wilderness, 

Blithesome and eumberless, 
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and leal 

Emblem of happiness. 

Blest is thy dwelling place, — 
to abide in the desert with thee ! 

Wild is thy lay and loud, 

Far in the downy cloud. 
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. 

Where on thy dewy wing. 

Where art thou journeying? 
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. 

The SkylarJc 




O^er fell and fountain sheen, 

O'er moor and mountain green. 
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day. 

Over the cloudlet dim, 

Over the rainbow's rim. 
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away ! 

Then, when the gloaming comes. 

Low in the heather blooms, 
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! 


James Hogg was born in Ettrick, Scotland, in 1770, and was known 
as ''the Ettrick Shepherd," because he followed the occupation of a 
shepherd until he was thirty. The beautiful selection here given was 
doubtless inspired by the poet's early communion with Nature. 

Notes and Questions 

From this poem what can you tell 
of the home of the skylark f Of 
its nature? 

Why is the lark called an emblem 
of happiness? Name something 
that might be called an emblem 
of strength; of sorrow. 

What pictures do the following 
words make to you: "wilder- 
ness, " 
* * heather-bloom ' ' f 

What is the ''red streamer that 
heralds the day"? 

What does the word "dewy" sug- 
gest as to the habits of the bird? 

What do "matin" and "gloam- 
ing" signify? 

In the poem what tells you the 
nest is near the ground? 

Why is "downy" used to describe 

What makes lines 13 and 14 so 

Indicate the rhythm of the first six lines by writing them in groups 
as shown in the following curves : 

Bird of the 


64 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 



Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! 

Bird thou never wert. 
That from Heaven, or near it, 

Pourest thy full heart 
5 In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

Higher still and higher 

From the earth thou springest 
Like a cloud of fire ; 

The blue deep thou wingest 
10 And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. 

In the golden lightning 

Of the sunken sun, 
O'er which clouds are brightening. 
Thou dost float and run; 
15 Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 

The pale purple even 

Melts around thy flight; 
Like a star of heaven, 

In the broad daylight 
20 Thou art unseen, — ^but yet I hear thy shrill delight, 

Keen as are the arrows 

Of that silver sphere. 
Whose intense lamp narrows 

In the white dawn clear 
25 Until we hardly see — we feel that it is there. 

All the earth and air 

With thy voice is loud. 
As, when Night is bare, 

From one lonely cloud 
30 The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflowed. 

To a Skylark 65 

What thou art we know not; 

What is most like thee? 
From rainbow clouds there flow not 

Drops so bright to see 
35 As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. 

Like a Poet hidden 

In the light of thought, 
Singing hymns unbidden 

Till the world is wrought 
40 To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : 

Like a high-horn maiden 

In a palace tower, 
Soothing her love-laden 
Soul in secret hour 
45 With music sweet as love, — which overflows her bower:: 

Like a glow-worm golden 

In a dell of dew. 
Scattering unbeholden 

Its aerial hue 
50 Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the viewn 

Like a rose embowered 

In its own green leaves, 
By warm winds deflowered. 

Till the scent it gives 
55 Makes faint with too much sweet those heavy-wingidi thiaves: 

Sound of vernal showers 

On the twinkling grass. 
Rain-awakened flowers. 

All that ever was 
60 Joyous and clear and fresh, thy music doth surpassi. 

Teach us. Sprite or Bird, 
What sweet thoughts are thine ; 

66 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

I have never heard 
Praise of love or wine 
65 That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. 

Chorus Hymeneal, 

Or triumphal chaunt, 
Matched with thine, would be all 

But an empty vaunt, 
70 A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 

What objects are the fountains 

Of thy happy strain? 
What fields or waves or mountains? 

What shapes of sky or plain? 
75 What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? 

With thy clear keen joyance 

Languor cannot be; 
Shadow of annoyance 

Never came near thee ; 
80 Thou lovest — but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. 

Waking or asleep 

Thou of death must deem 
Things more true and deep 

Than we mortals dream — 
85 Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? 

We look before and after, 

And pine for what is not; 
Our sincerest laughter 

With some pain is fraught ; 
90 Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. 

Yet if we could scorn 

Hate and pride and fear; 
If we were things born 

Not to shed a tear, 
95 T know not how thy joy we ever should come near. 

To a Skylark 


Better than all measures 

Of delightful sound. 
Better than all treasures 

That in books are found, 
100 Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! 

Teach me half the gladness 

That thy brain must know. 
Such harmonious madness 
From my lips would flow, 
105 The world should listen then — as I am listening now. 


Bio^aphical and Historical: Percy Bysshe Shelley was born in 1792. 
He was an English poet who traveled much in Europe, and found Italy 
especially to his liking. His life was short and full of storm and stress, 
although he never allowed his personal sufferings to embitter his spirit. 
While only thirty, on a pleasure cruise off the coast of Italy, he was 

"To a Skylark" and **The Cloud *' are rare poems because of their 
wonderful harmony of sound. 

The skylark is found in northern Europe. It is noted for its lofty 
flights and wonderful song. Note that Shelley, Wordsworth, and James 
Hogg have all written poems about the skylark. 

Notes and Questions 

What country is the home of these 
poets? What does this fact sug- 
gest to you? 

Explain the simile in the fifth 
stanza. In the sixth. 

In the seventh stanza what two 
words are contrasted? 

Note the four comparisons — stan- 
zas eight, nine, ten and eleven. 
Which do you like best? Why? 

In line 86 emphasize the first word 
and explain the stanza. 

In line 95 emphasize the fifth word 

and explain the stanza. 
In line 96 to end, what does Shelley 

say would be the result if a poet 

could feel such joy as the little 

bird seems to feel? 
If we had no dark days do you 

think we could appreciate the 

bright days? 
If we had no sadness could we 

appreciate the songs of gladness? 
If Shelley had never experienced 

sadness could he have written 

this beautiful poem of gladness? 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Explain the following: 

^' There is no music in the life 

That sounds with empty laughter 

There's not a string attuned to 

But has its chord in melancholy." 
What does the skylark mean to 

If we think only of being happy 

shall we be very helpful to oth- 

Make a list of all the names he 
gives the skylark. 

Enumerate the expressions Shelk'v 
uses in characterizing the soq^. 

Which stanza do you like best ? 

**wert" rhymes with heart. (Tn 
England the sound is broad, er = 

*'even'* — a contraction of even- 


Words and Fbrases for Discussion 

** profuse strains" '* panted forth" **heavj^ -winged thieves" 

''unpremeditated art" **rain of melody" ''harmonious madness" 

'* shrill delight" ''flood of rapture" "float and run" 

"rains out" " triumphant chaunt " "scattering unbeholden" 




I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 

From the seas and the streams ; 
1 hoar light shade for the leaves when laid 

In their noon-day dreams; 
From my wings are shaken the dews tlmt waken 

Tlie sweet buds every one, 
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast. 

As she dances about the sun. 
I wiold the flail of the lashing hail, 

And whiten the green plains under; 
And then again I dissolve it in rain. 

And laugh as I pass in thunder. 

1 sift the snow on the mountains below. 

And their great pines groan aghast; 

The Cloud 69 

15 And all the night His my pillow white. 

While I sleep in the arms of the blast 
Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers. 

Lightning, my pilot, sits ; 
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, — 
20 It struggles and howls by fits; 

Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, 

Tliis pilot is guiding me, 
Lured by the love of the genii that move 
In the depths of the purple sea; 
25 Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills. 
Over the lakes and the plains/ 
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream. 

The spirit he loves remains; 
And I, all the while, bask in heaven's blue smile, 
30 Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 

The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes. 

And his burning plumes outspread, 
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, 

When the morning-star shines dead, 
35 As on the jag of a mountain-crag, 

Which an earthquake rocks and swings. 
An eagle, alit, one moment may sit. 

In the light of its golden wings. 
And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, 
40 Its ardors of rest and love. 

And the crimson pall of eve may fall 

From the depth of heaven above. 
With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest. 

As still as a brooding dove. 

45 That orbed Maiden, with white fire laden. 
Whom mortals call the Moon, 
Glides glimmering o^er my fleece-like floor. 

By the midnight breezes strewn; 
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 
50 Which only the angels hear. 

yO Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof. 

The stars peep behind her, and peer ! 
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee. 

Like a swarm of golden bees, 
55 When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent. 

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas. 
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, 

Are each paved with the moon and these. 

I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone. 
60 And the moon's with a girdle of peari ; 

The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim. 

When the whiriwinds my banner unfuri. 
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, 
Over a torrent of sea, 
65 Sun-beam proof, I hang like a roof. 
The mountains its columns be. 
The triumphal arch through which I march 

With hurricane, fire, and snow. 
When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, 
70 Is tiie million-colored bow; 

The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove. 

While the moist earth was laughing below. 

T am the daughter of earth and water. 

And the nursling of the sky; 
75 I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; 

I change, but I can not die. 
For after the rain, when, with never a stain, 

The pavilion of heaven is bare. 
And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams. 
80 Build up the blue dome of air, 

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph. 

And out of the caverns of rain, 
liike a sprite from the gloom, like a ghost from the tomb, 

I rise and unbuild it asjain. 

Apostrophe to the Ocean 71 

Notes and Qaestioiu 

In this poem Shelley personifies the 

Cloud. Why? 
What does the second stanza mean 

to youf 
The third stanza relates to the 

sun; what comparisons are made? 
What comparisons are found in the 

fourth stanza f 

Bead the last stanza and tell what 

lesson the poem teaches. What 

line tells youf 
What pictures do you get from the 

fifth stanza? 
Which stanza is most musical and 


Words and Plirases for Discussion 

"sanguine sunrise" "pavilion of heaven" "reel and swim" 
"meteor eyes" "caverns of rain" "million-colored bow" 

"burning plumes" "fleece-like floor" "sphere-fire" 

"orbed maiden" "wind-built tent" "cenotaph" 

(From "Childe Harold," Canto IV.) 


There is a pleasure in the pathless woods. 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,- 
There is society, where none intrudes. 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar; 
S I love not man the less, but nature more. 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before. 
To mingle with the universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

10 Boll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 

15 A shadow of man^s ravage, save his own. 
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 

12 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

He sinks into thy depths, with bubbling groan — 
Without a grave^ unknelled, nncoffined, and unknown* 

His steps are not upon thy paths — ^thy fields 
20 Are not a spoil for him — ^thou dost arise 

And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields 
For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, 
Spurning him from thy bosom tp the skies, 
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, 
25 And howling to his gods, where haply lies 
His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
And dashest him again to earth : there let him lay. 

The armaments which thunder-strike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 

30 And monarchs tremble in their capitals. 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war: 
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, 

35 They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores are empires changed in all save thee — 

Assyria, Greece, Bome, Carthage, what are they? 

Thy waters washed them power while they were free, 
40 And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 

The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay 

Has dried up realms to deserts; not so thou; 

Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play. 

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow : 
45 Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou roUest now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time. 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze or gale or storm. 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
50 Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — 

Apostrophe to the Ocean 73 

The image of Eternity — ^the throne 
Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

55 And I have loved thee. Ocean ! and my joy 
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy • 
I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me , 
Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea 

€0 Made them a terror — Hwas a pleasing fear; 
For I was as it were a child of thee. 
And trusted to thy billows far and near. 
And laid my hand upon thy mane — ^as I do here. 


Biographical and Bistoxical: George Gordon Byron was born in 
London the year before the outbreak of the French Revolution. At the 
age of ten, upon the death of his grand-uncle he became Lord Byron. 
He traveled extensively through Europe, spending much time in Italy. 
At Pisa he formed a warm friendship for the poet SheUey. So deeply 
was he moved by his impulses toward liberty and freedom that in 
the summer of 1823 he left Genoa with a supply of arms, medicines, and 
money to aid the Greeks in their struggle for independence. In the 
following year he became commander-in-chief at Missolonghi, but he 
died of a fever before he had an opportunity to actually engage in battle. 
Hearing the news, the boy Tennyson, dreaming at Somersby on poetic 
greatness, crept away to weep and carve upon sandstone the words, 
''Byron is dead.'' 

Notes and Questtons 
In the first stanza why ''pathless Line 22 — ^What word requires 

woods" and "lonely shore"! 
In the second and third stanzas 

Byron contrasts the ocean and 

the earth in their relation to man. 
Line 12— What two words require 

emphasis f 
Une 13— With what is ''watery 

plain" contrasted? 
Line 14— With what id "thy" 

contrasted f 


In the fourth stanza what contrast 
does Byron make? 

What does the fifth stanza tell? 
The sixth? 

Which stanza do you like best? 

Which lines are the most beauti- 

74 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

''The Invincible Armada" — an immense Spanish fleet eonsisting of 
one hundred thirty vessels, sailed from Corunna in 1588 and attacked 
the English fleet but suffered defeat. This event furnished Southey the 
inspiration for a poem, "The Spanish Armada." 

"Trafalgar" — one of Lord Nelson's great sea-flghts, occurring off 
" Cape Trafalgar on the coast of Spain in 1805. Here he defeated the com- 
bined fleets of France and Spain, but was himself killed. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"unknelled" **oak leviathans" "spoils of Trafalgar" 

"uncoffined" "yeast of waves" "rock-built" 

* * unknown " " These are thy toys " " glasses itself ' ' 

' * playful spray " " The Armada 's pride " " fathomless ' ' 



The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold. 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

S Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green^ 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen; 
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath flown. 
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. 

For the Angel of t)eath spread his wings on th^ blast, 
10 And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still ! 

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; 
15 And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf. 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

The Destruction of Sennacherib 76 

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
20 The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And their idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword. 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 


Historical: Sennacherib was King of Assyria. His army invaded 
Judea and besieged Jerusalem but was overthrown; 185,000 of his men 
were destroyed in a single night. Sennacherib returned in haste with 
the remnant to his own country. For the Bible story of this event read 
2 Kings XIX. 6-36. 

Notes and Questions 

Find Assyria and Galilee on year 

Note the development: 

1. Brilliant outset of the Assyrian 


2. Their summer changes to win- 


3. The angel turns their sleep into 


4. The steed and the rider. 

5. The mourning. 

6. Their idols powerless to help 


7. Their religion broken down. 

8. Their power ** melted like 

snow. ' ' 
What two comparisons are found 

in the first stanza? 
Note the movement and rhythm. 
Point out the fitness of the two 

similes in the second stanza. 
Find a comparison in the sixth 

* ' Ashur ' ' — Assyria. 
' * Baal ' ' — the sun-god worshipped 

by the Assyrians. 

Indicate the rhythm of the four lines of the second stanza by writing 
them in groups under curves as on page 47 . 

Words and Phrases for Discnssion 

** cohorts'' ''unsmote*' ''idols are broke" 

** sheen" "purple and gold" (broken) 

*'ho8t'' "withered and strown" "rock-beating surf" 

76 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

(From "Childe Harold/' Canto III.) 


Thebe was a sound of revelry by night. 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. 
5 A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went metry as a marriage bell. 
But, hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! 

10 Did ye not hear it? — No; Hwas but the wind, 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street. 
On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet ! 

15 But, hark ! that heavy sound breaks in once more. 
As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
Arm ! arm ! it is — it is the cannon's opening roar ! 

Within a windowed niche of that high hall 
20 Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear 
That sound the first amidst the festival. 
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; 
And when they smiled because he deemed it near. 
His heart more truly knew that peal too well 
25 Which stretched his father on a bloody bier. 

And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell ; 
He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, felL 

Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro,. 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
30 And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 

The Eve Before Waterloo 77 

Blushed at th(e praise of their own loveliness; 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated : who could guess 
35 If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 
Since upon night so sweet such awful mom could rise ! 

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, 

The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 

Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
^ And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; 

And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; 

And near, the beat of the alarming drum 

Boused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 

While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, 
45 Or whispering with white lips, "The foe ! They come ! 
they come!'' 

And wild and high the **Cameron*B Gathering" rose ! 
The war note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills 
Have heard — and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : 
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, 
SO Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills 
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers 
With the fierce native daring which instills 
The stirring memory of a thousand years. 
And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears ! 

55 And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves. 

Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 

Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 

Over the unreturning brave — alas ! 

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
60 Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 

Of living valor, rolling on the foe, 
And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,, 
65 Last eve in Beaut/s circle proudly gay ; 

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife^ 

The morn, the marshaling in arms — the day. 

Battle's magnificently stem array! 

The thunderclouds close o'er it, which when rent 
70 The earth is covered thick with other clay. 

Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 
Bider and horse — friend, foe — in one red burial blent ! 


Historical: On the evening of June 15, 1815, the Dnchess of Rich- 
mond gave a ball at Brussels. Wellington's officers, at his request, were 
present; his purpose being to conceal the near approach of battle. Napo- 
leon,.. the leader of the French army, was the military genius of the age; 
Wellington, the leader of the English forces, had, Tennyson tells us, 
'' gained a hundred fights nor ever lost an English gun." These two 
great generals now met for the first time. The event was of supreme 
interest to all the world. The engagement that followed next day was 
fought at Quatre Bras; the great battle of Waterloo took place June 
18th, Sunday. Read Thackeray's ''Vanity Fair" for description of this 
night in Brussels. This is a great martial poem — the greatest inspired 
by this event. 

Note the movement of the poem. The revelry, the beauty and the 
chivalry, the music and the merry-making, the alarm, the hurrying to and 
fro, the gathering tears, the mounting in hot haste, the whispering with 
white lips* the Scotch music, the green leaves of Ardennes, the closing 

Notes and Qaestions 

Find Belgium's capital on your 
map; also Waterloo, twelve miles 

What does the first stanza tell ? The 
second stanza? 

Note the differences between the 
fourth and fifth stanzas. 

The sixth stanza describes the Scot- 
tish martial music — What pur- 
pose does this stanza serve in 
the poemf 

Which lines do you like best f Why! 
Which is the most beautiful stanza f 
What words seem to be especially 

Note the rhythm and the change in 

' ' Cameron 's Gathering " — The 

Cameron. Highlander's call to 

' * Lochiel ' ' — Donald Cameron of 

Lochiel was a famous highland 

Spng of the Greek Bard 


chieftain. Bead the poem ''Lo- 
chiel's Warning." 

' Albyn ' ' — name given poetically 
to northern Scotland, the High- 
land region. 

' Pibroch ' ' — martial music upon 
the bagpipe. 

'Evan's, Donald's fame'' — Evan 
Cameron (another Lochiel) and 

his grandson, Donald, were 
famous Highland chiefs. 

'Ardennes" — ^Arden, a forest on 
the Mouse river between Brus 
sels and Waterloo, called Arden 
by Shakespeare in "As You Like 

*car" — a cart. 

Words and Phrases for Disciission 

"voluptuous swell' 
"rising knell" 
"glowing hours" 
"opening roar" 
"terror dumb" 
"noon of night" 
"stirring memory*' 

' revelry ' ' 
'chivalry" • 
'mustering squadron" 
'clattering car" 
'pouring forward" 
'impetuous speed" 
'unreturning brave" 

"rolling on the foe" 
"magnificently stern' 
' ' clansman ' ' 
' ' verdure ' ' 
"blent" ' 


(From "Don Juan/* Canto III.) 


The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! 

Where burning Sappho loved and sung, 
Where grew the arts of war and peace, 

Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! 
Eternal summer gilds them yet. 
But all, except their sun, is set. 

The Scian and the Teian muse. 
The heroes harp, the lover's lute, 

Have found the fame your shores refuse*. 
Their place of birth alone is mute 

To ^unds which echo further west 

Than your sires' "Island*^ of the Blest.'' 

80 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

The mountains look on Marathon — 
And Marathon looks on the sea; 
15 And musing there an hour alone, 

I dreamed that Greece might still be free; 
For, standing on the Persian's grave^ 
I could not deem myself a slave. 

A king sat on the rocky brow 
20 Which looks o'er sea-bom Salamis; 

And ships by thousands lay below, 

And men in nations; — all were his! 
He counted them at break of day — 
And when the sun set, where were they? 

25 And where are they? and where art thou 

My country? On thy voiceless shore 
The heroic lay is tuneless now— 

The heroic bosom beats no more. 
And must thy lyre, so long divine, 
30 Degenerate into hands like mine? 

^Tis something in the dearth of fame. 
Though linked among a fettered race. 

To feel at least a patriot's shame. 
Even as I sing, suffuse my face; 
35 For what is left the poet here ? 

For Greeks a blush — for Greece a tear. 

Must we but weep o'er days more blest? 

Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. 
Earth, render back froni out thy breast 
40 A remnant of our Spartan dead! 

Of the three hundred grant but three. 
To make a new Thermopylae ! 

What, silent still? and silent all? 
Ah, no; the voices of the dead 

Song of the Greek Bard 81 

45 Sound like a distant torrent's fall. 

And answer, "Let one living head. 
But one, arise — ^we come, we comer* 
^Tis but the living who are dumb. 

In vain — in vain: strike other chords; 
SO Fill high the cup with Samian wine I 

Lieave battles to the Turkish hordes. 
And shed the blood of Scio's vine I 
Hark ! rising to the ignoble call — 
How answers each bold bacchanal ! 

55 You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet — 

Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? 
Of two such lessons, why forget 

The nobler and the manlier one ? 
You have the letters Cadmus gave — 
60 Think you he meant them for a slave ? 

The tyrant of the Chersonese 
Was freedom's best and bravest friend ; 

That tyrant was Miltiades ! 

that the present hour would lend 
65 Another despot of the kind ! 

Such chains as his were sure to bind. 

Trust not for freedom to the Franks — 

They have a king who buys and sells — 
In native swords and native ranks 
70 The only hope. of courage dwells; 

But Turkish force and Latin fraud 
Would break your shield, however broad. 

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, 

Where nothing, save the waves and I 
75 May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ; 

There, swan-like, let me sing and die ; 
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine — 
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine I 

82 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 


nstorlcal: The decline of Greece is the theme of this poem. Byron 
represents a Greek poet as contrasting ancient and modem Greece, show- 
ing that, in modern Greece, ''all except their sun is set." 

Notes and Qnestioiia 

What does the first stanza tellf 
What are ''the arts of war and 

What nation is meant by the 


"I could not deem myself a 

slave." Why! 
Line 19 — ^relates to Xerxes. 
Lines 23, 24. Explain these lines. 
Explain lines 67, 70. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"Sappho" "Persian's grave" "voiceless shore" 

"Delos" "Salamis" "heroic lay" 

"Phcebus" "eternal summer" '/fettered race" 

"Marathon" "rocky brow" "dearth of fame" 

"Of the three hundred grant but three, 
To make a new Thermopylae" 




At midnight, in his guarded tent. 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in supplianee bent, 

Should tremble at his power. 
In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror; 

In dreams, his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet-ring; 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king: 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing. 

As Eden's garden-bird. 

Marco Bozzaris 83 

At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band. 
True as the steel of their 'tried blades, 
15 Heroes in heart and hand. 

There had the Persian^s thousands stood. 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood. 

On old PlatsBa's day : 
And now there breathed that haunted air, 
20 The sons of sires who conquered there, 

With arms to strike, and soul to dare. 

As quick, as far as they. 

An hour passed on — the Turk awoke; 
That bright dream' was his last: 
25 He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, 

"To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek V* 
He woke — to die mid flame and smoke, 
And shout and groan, and sabre-stroke, 
And death-shots falling thick and fast 
30 As lightnings from the mountain-cloud; 

And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : 
"Strike! — till the last armed foe expires; 
Strike ! — for your altars and your fires ; 
35 Strike ! — for the green graves *of your sires ; , 

God — and your native land!" 

They fought — ^like brave men, long and well; 

They piled the ground with Moslem slain; 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 
40 Bleeding at every vein. 

His few surviving comrades saw 

His smile, when rang their proud — ^Tiurrah,'* 

And the red field was won : 
Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
45 Calmly, as to a night's repose. 

Like flowers at set of sun. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 



But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like' a prophet's word. 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 
Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Best thee — there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 
We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and FameV 
One of the few, the immortal names 

That were not born to die. 


Biographical and Hi^orical: Fitz-Greene Halleck was born in 
Connecticut, July 8, 1790, and died November 19, 1867. Of his poems, 
^* Marco Bozzaris '^ is probably the best known. Marco Bozzaris, leader 
of the Greek revolution, was killed August 20, 1823, in an attack upon 
the Turks near Missolonghi, a Greek town. His last words were: **To 
die for liberty is a pleasure, not a pain.'' 

Notes and Questions 

Over whom did the Turk dream he 
'gained a victory t 

What might be the "trophies of a 

Upon whom would a monarch con- 
fer the privilege of wearing his 
signet ring? 

Trace the successive steps by which 
the Turk in his dream rises to 
the summit of his ambition. 

What other "immortal names" do 
you know? 

"Suliote'' — natives of Suli, a 
mountainous district in Albania 
(European Turkey). 

"Plataea's day'' refers to the vic- 
tory of the Greeks over the Per- 
sians on this field 479 B. C. 

' * Moslem ' ' — Mohammedans — iname 
given the Turks. 

"tried blades'' 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"haunted air" "storied brave'' 

The Burial of Sir John Moore 85 



Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 

As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 

O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

. 5 We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
The sods with our bayonets turning. 
By the struggling moonbeams' misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin inclosed his breast, 
10 Nor in sheet nor in shroud we. wound him ; 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
Wittf his martial cloak around him. 

Few and short were the prayers we said, 
And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
15 But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead. 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow, 
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, 
20 And we far away on the billow. 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone. 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on . 

In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 

25 But half of our heavy task was done 

When the clock struck the hour for. retiring; 
And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 


Ehon Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
30 From the field of his fame fresh and gory; 
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
But we left him alone with his glory. 


Charles Wolfe, a British clergyman, was born at Dublin, December 
14, 1791, and died at Cork, February 21, 1823. His poem, **The Burial 
of Sir John Moore," is the only one of his works now widely read. 

Historical: Sir John Moore, an English general, was killed (January 
16, 1809) in an engagement between the English and the army of 
Napoleon at Corunna, in Spain. In accordance with an expressed ^wish, 
he was buried at night on the battlefield. In St. Paul's Cathedral, Lon- 
don, a monument was erected to his memory, and a stone- also marks the 
spot where he was buried on the ramparts, at Corunna. Note that it was 
from this port that the Spanish Armada sailed. 

Notes and Qnestioiu 

Who tells the story of the poemf 
What is the narrator's feeling for 

Sir John Moore f How do you 

What impressions of Sir John 

Moore do you get from reading 

this poemf 

Which stanza or stanzas do you 

like best! Why! 
Select the lines that seem to you 

most beautiful and memorize 

Which is the greater memorial, a 

monument of stone or bronze, or 

such a poem as this! Whyf 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

corse ' ' 

' ' bayonets ' ' 





rampart ' ' 


* ' struggling ' ' 

random ' ' 

"Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot' 

'*The struggling moonbeam" 

"We bitterly thought of the morrow" 


Absalom 87 



The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low 
On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled 
Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, 
Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. 
The reeds bent down the stream ; the willow leaves. 
With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, 
Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, 
Whose flowers the v/ater, like a gentle nurse, 
Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way. 
And leaned in graceful attitudes to rest. 
How strikingly the course of nature tells. 
By its light heed of human suffering. 
That it was fashioned for a happier world ! 

King David's limbs were weary. He had fled 
^^ From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood, 
With his faint people, for a little rest, 
Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 
Of mom was stirring, and he bared his brow 
To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn 
The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 
That he could see his people until now. 
They gathered round him on the fresh green bank. 
And spoke their kindly words; and as the sun 
Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, 
2^ And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. 

Oh, when the heart is full — ^when bitter thoughts 
Come crowding thickly up for utterance. 
And the poor, common words of courtesy 
Are such an empty mockery — ^how much 
The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer! 
He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up 
Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 
Whose love had been his shield; and his deep tones 



88 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Grew tremulous. But oh ! for Absalom — 

35 For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 

The proud, bright being who had burst away 
In all his princely beauty, to defy 
The heart that cherished him — for him he poured. 
In agony that would not be controlled, 

40 Strong supplication, and forgave him there. 
Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. . . 

The pall was settled. He who slept beneath 
Was straightened for the grave ; and as the folds 
Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed 

45 The matchless symmetry of Absalom. 

His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls 
Were floating round the tassels as they swayed 
To the admitted air, as glossy now 
As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing 

50 The snowy fingers of Judea's daughters. 
His helm was at his feet ; his banner, soiled 
With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid, 
Reversed, beside him ; and the jeweled hilt, 
Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade, 

55 Bested, like mockery, on his covered brow. 
The soldiers of the king trod to and fro. 
Clad in the garb of battle; and their chief. 
The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier. 
And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, 

60 As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 

A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 
As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 
Of David entered, and he gave command. 
In a low tone, to his few followers, 

65 And left him with his dead. The King stood still 
Till the last echo died ; then, throwing off 
The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 
The pall from the still features of his child. 
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 

70 In the resistless eloquence of woe : 

Absalom 89 

*^Alas, my noble boy, that thou shouldst die ! 
Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
That death should settle in thy glorious eye. 
And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! 
75 How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 
My proud boy, Absalom ? 

"Cold is thy brow, my son, and I am chill 

As to my bosom I have tried to press thee ! 
How I was wont to feel my pulses thrill, 
80 Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee. 

And hear thy sweet 'My father!' from these dumb 
And cold lips, Absalom ! 

"But death is on thee. I shall hear the gush 
Of music, and the voices of the young; 
85 And life will pass me in the mantling blush, 

And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung — 
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
To meet me, Absalom ! 

"And oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
90 Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken. 

How will its love for thee, as I depart, 

Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token ! 
It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom. 

To see thee, Absalom ! 

9^^ '^And now, farewell ! ^Tis hard to give thee up. 
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ; 
And thy dark sin! Oh, I could drink the cup. 
If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. 
May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
100 My lost boy, Absalom V 

He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
A moment on his child ; then, giving him 
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 


Elson Orammar School Reader Book Fotir 


His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; 
And, as if strength were given him of God, 
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
Firmly and decently, and left him there. 
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 


Nathaniel Parker Willis was born in Maine in 1806. He was a 
graduate of Yale and was an early contributor to various periodicals, 
including the "Youths' Companion," which magazine had been founded 
by his father. The selection here given is regarded as the poet 's master- 

Historical: Absalom, the son of David, King of Israel, rebelled 
against his father. David sent his army to put down the rebellion, but 
said to his captains, ''Deal gently for my sake with the young man, even 
with Absalom." In spite of this entreaty, Absalom was slain by Joab, 
a captain in David's army. The first forty-one lines relate to events 
preceding the battle, the remainder to events following the battle. Bead 
2 Samuel XVIII. 

Notes and Questiona 

Find the Jordan on your map. 
Locate the Dead Sea; the wood of 

Ephraim where Absalom was 

Describe the picture you see when 

you read the first stanza. 
What do we call such expressions. 

as ** Night's silvery veil"? 
What is night ^s silvery veil? 
''The willow leaves with a soft 

cheek upon the lulling tide. 

Forgot the lifting winds" — 
What does this mean f Why 
''lulling tide"! 

What flowers does the poet mean 
in the eighth line? Is the poet 
true to nature in what he says 
of them? Show why. 

Select two words or expressions 
that seem to you to be especially 
beautiful or fit, and tell why. 
Do you Uke the selection f Why I 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"waters slept" "melting tenderness" "fashioned for a happier world' 

' ' lifting winds " " mantling blush " " straightened for the grave ' ' 

"estranged" "breathing sleep" "resistless eloquence" 

* ' bruised reed " " still proportions ' ' 

"Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade" 

Lochinvar 91 


(From "Marmion.") 


O, Young Lochinvar is come out of the West, — 
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; 
And, save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, — 
He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. 
^ So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone. 
He swam the Esk river, where ford there was none ; 
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
10 iTie bride had consented, the gallant came late : 
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war. 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall, 
'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all : 
15 Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword 
(For the poor, craven bridegroom said never a word), 
"O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war. 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" 

"1 long wooed your daughter, — ^my suit you denied ; — 
20 Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ; 
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine. 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the j'oung Lochinvar V 

25 The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up, 

He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. 

She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — 
30 ^^Now tread we a measure !*' said young Lochinvar. 

92 EUon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

So Btately his form, and so lovely her face. 
That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume. 
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, 
35 And the bridemaidens whispered, " ^Twere better, by far. 
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear. 
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near, 
. So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 
40 So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 

"She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 
Theyll have fleet steeds that follow/' quoth yoimg Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode, and they ran ; 
*S There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, 
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 


Biographical and Historical: Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, 
in 1771. He loved the romance of Scotland's history and legends. A 
collection of legendary ballads, songs, and traditions, published by him 
early in life met with such immediate success that it confirmed him in 
his resolution to devote himself to literary pursuits. The two selections 
here given, are taken from his second metrical romance, ''Marmion. " 
Later Scott turned his attention to prose and became the creator of the 
historical novel, of which **Ivanhoe,'* ''Kenilworth," and *' Woodstock " 
are conspicuous examples. He died in 1832, and lies buried in one of 
the most beautiful ruins in Scotland, Dryburgh Abbey. 

Notes and Questions 

Find Esk River and Solway Firth 
on your map. 

Scott describes the tides of Sol- 
way Firth in Chapter IV of bis 
novel; ' ' Bedgauntlet. ' ' 

Compare the rhythm with that in 
**How They Brought the Good 
News. ' ' 

What impression of Lochinvar do 
the opening stanzas give youf 

The Parting of Marmion and Douglas 


What purpose does the fourth 

stanza serve f 
Line 20 — Explain this line. 
Line 46 — What was the result? 
What picture does the sixth stanza 

give you? 
Which stanza do you like best! 
Which lines are most pleasing? 

''galliard'' — a gay dance, 
''scaur'' — steep bank of river. 
**clan'' — a group of related 

Translate into your own words: 

' ' ' They '11 have fleet steeds that 

follow,' ouoth young Lochin- 

var. * * 

' laggard ' ' 
* charger" 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

"brake'' *'bar" 

** craven" ** bonnet and plume" 




(.From "Marmion.") 


Not far advanced was morning day. 
When Marmion did his troop array. 

To Surrey's camp to ride ; 
He had safe conduct for his band, 
Beneath the royal seal and hand. 

And Douglas gave a guide. 

The train from out the castle drew, 
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : 
'Though something I might 'plain,'' he said, 
"Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
Sent hither by your king's behest, 
While ip Tantallon's towers I staid ; 
Part we in friendship from your land, 
And, noble Earl, receive my hand." 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak. 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : 
"My manors, halls, and bowers shall still 

94 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Be open, at my sovereign's will. 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
20 Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 

My castles are my king's alone, 
From turret to foundation stone; 
The hand of Douglas is his own ; 
And never shall, in friendly grasp, 
25 The hand of such as Marmion clasp." 

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire. 
And shook his very frame for ire; 

And "This to me,*' he said, 
"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, 
30 Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 

To cleave the Douglas' head ! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer. 
He, who does England's message here. 
Although the meanest in her state, 
35 May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : 

And, Douglas, more, I tell thee here. 

Even in thy pitch of pride — 
Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near, 

I tell thee, thou'rt defied ! 
40 And if thou said'st, I am not peer 

To any lord in Scotland here. 
Lowland or Highland, far or near. 

Lord Angus, thou hast lied !'' 

On the EarFs cheek, the flush of rage 
^ Overcame the ashen hue of age : 

Fierce he broke forth; "And dar'st thou then 

To beard the lion in his den. 
The Douglas in his hall? 

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go? 
SO Xo, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! 

Up draw-bridge, grooms, — what, warder, ho !, 
Let the portcullis fall.'' 

Lord Marmion turned, — ^well was his need. 

The Parting of Marmion and Douglas 95 

And dashed the rowels in his steed. 
55 Like arrow through the archwa)'^ sprung; 

The ponderous grate behind him rung: 
To pass there was such scanty room, 
The bars^ descending, razed his plume. 

The steed along the draw-bridge flies, 
60 Just as it trembled on the rise ; 

Nor lighter does the swallow skim 

Along the smooth lake's level brim ; 

And when Lord Marmion reached his band 

He halts, and turns with clinched hand 
65 And shout of loud defiance pours, 

And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

''Horse ! horse !" the Douglas cried, "and chase !" 

But soon he reined his fury's pace : 

"A royal messenger he came, 
70 Though most unworthy of the name. 

Saint Mary mend my fiery mood ! 

Old age ne'er cools the Douglas' blood ; 

I thought to slay him where he stood. 

'Tis pity of him, too," he cried ; 
7S ^rBold he can speak, and fairly ride — 

I warrant him a warrior tried." 

With this his mandate he recalls, 

And slowly seeks his castle halls. 


Historical: Mannion, an English nobleman, is sent as an envoy by 
Henry the Eighth^ King of England, to James the Fourth, King of 
Scotland. The two countries are on the eve of war with each other. 
Arriving in Edinburgh, Marmion is entrusted by King James to the 
eare and hospitality of Douglas, Earl of Angus, who, taking him to his 
castle at Tantallon, treats him with the respect due his position as 
representative of the king, but at the same time dislikes him. The war 
approaching, Marmion leaves to join the English camp. This sketch 
describes the leave-taking. 


Elaon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Notes and Questioiis 

In what part of the castle does this 
conversation take place? What 
tells you? 

Where are Marmion's followers 
during this time? Where are 
Douglas's soldiers and servants? 
What lines tell you? 

Kotice how simply Marmion re- 
minds Douglas of the claim he 
had upon hospitality, while in 
Scotland. Lines 9 to 12. 

Note the claims that have always 
been allowed the stranger: 

''And stranger is a holy name. 

Guidance and rest and food and 

In vain he never must require." 

What part of Marmion 's claim 
does Douglas recognize? Which 
linea show this? 

What claim does Marmion make 
for one "who does England's 


What do we call one **who does 
England's message" at Wash- 
ington ? 

Is this Marmion 's personal pride 
or pride of country (patriotism) ? 

Bead the lines in which Marmion 's 
personal pride shows itself ia 
resentment of Douglas's insults. 

What does Douglas forget when he 
threatens Marmion? Line 69. 

Which man appears to greater ad 
vantage in this scene? 

* ' train ' * — ^procession. 

** 'plain "—complain. 

' * Tantal'lon ' ' — Douglas »s eaatle. 

* * warder ' ' — guard. 

"peer" — equal. 

"peer" — a nobleman. 

"Saint Bride" — a saint belong- 
ing to the house of Douglas. 

"rowel" — wheel of a spur. 

Words and Pbrases for Discussion 

"pitch of pride" 

"flush of rage" 


* * unmeet ' ' 

"ponderous grate" 
"level brim" 
' ' vassals ' ' 

"swarthy cheek" 
"haughty peer" 



Is THERE, for honest poverty. 
That hangs his head, and a^ that ? 

The coward-slave, we pass him by; 
We dare be poor for a' that ! 

For a' That and a' That 97 

S For a' that, and a' that, 

Our toils obscure, and a' that ; 
The rank is but the guinea stamp. 
The man's the gowd for a' that. 

What though on hamely fare we dine, 
10 Wear hodden-gray, an a' that ; 

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 
A man's a man for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
15 The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that. 

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; 
Though hundreds worship at his word, 
20 He's but a eoof for a' that; 

For a'' that, and a' that, 

His ribband, star, and a' that ; 
The man of independent mind, 
He looks and laughs at a' that. 

25 A prince can make a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 
But an honest man^s aboon his might, 
Guid faith, he maunna fa' that! 
For a' that, and a' that ; 
30 Their dignities, and a' that ; 

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth. 
Are higher rank than a* that. 

Then let us pray that come it may, 
As come it will for a' that, 
35 That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth. 

Shall bear the gree, and a' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 
Ifs comin' yet, for a' that. 


Elson GramnKir School Reader Book Four 


That man to man, the warld o'er 
Shall brothers be for a' that. 


Biograpliical: Bobert Burns was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1759. 
His life was short and full of poverty and privation; but he saw poetry 
in all the commonplace occurrences of every-day life. His sympathy 
went out to all human kind and, as the above selection shows, he liad a 
high regard for the real worth of man. 

Notes and Qnestioiis 

Does birth or station in life de- 
termine the man? 

Lines 7, 8. Explain these lines. 

Lines, 29-40. What do these lines 

In the following what is onutted? 
Man's (27); It's (38); o'er (39). 

Why did Burns use the word 
''coward -slave"? 

Does the poet say a man is ''king 
of men" because he is poor? 

man a king axnomg 

What makes a 
his fellowmen? 

Scotch words and their Snglish 

a' — all; wha — ^who; gowd — gold; 
hamely — ^homely; hodden-gray — 
coarse gray cloth; gie — give; sae 
— so; birkie — clever fellow; ca *d 
— called; coof — dunce; aboon — 
above; guid — good; maunna fa* 
must not try; gree — ^prize. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

'toils obscure" 
'pith o' sense' 

'guinea stamp' 


"belted knight" 



The quality of mercy is not strained ; 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 

Upon the place beneath ; it is twice blessed ; 

Selections from Shakespeare 99 

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 
5 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 

The throned monarch better than his crown; 

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings : 
10 But mercy is above the sceptred sway : 

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. 

It is an attribute of God himself : 

And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 

When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, 
15 Jew, though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 

That, in the course of justice, none of us 

Should see salvation ; we do pray for mercy ; 

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 

The deeds of mercy. 


Biographical and Historical: William Shakespeare, the greatest of 
English poets, indeed one of the greatest of the world's poets, was born 
in 1564 at Stratford-on-Avon. As a young man of twenty-two, after his 
marriage with Anne Hathaway, he went up to London, where he became 
connected with theaters, first, tradition says, by holding horses at the 
doors. The next twenty years he spent in London as an actor, and in 
writing poems and plays, later becoming a shareholder as well as an 
actor. The last ten years of his life were spent at Stratford, where he 
died at the age of fifty-two. This was the time of Queen Elizabeth and 
is known as the Elizabethan Age. It was the age richest in genius of 
all kinds, but especially in the creation of dramatic literature. 

In the foregoing selection, Portia, disguised as a lawyer, makes this 
famous speech in pleading the cause of Antonio against Shylock. 


"strained" — ^restrained *' shows" — is the emblem of 

Words and Phrases for Discussion. 

** temporal power" **sceptered sway" 

** Earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice" 

lOd Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 



All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
5 His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant. 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; 
Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
10 Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 

Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then a soldier. 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard. 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
IS Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice, 
In fair round belly with good capon lined, — 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut. 
Full of wise saws and modern instances; 
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 

20 Into the lean and slippered pantaloon. 

With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 

25 And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all. 

That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion, 

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

Selections from Shakespeare 


'Mewling ' ' — squalling. 

* sudden ' ' — impetuous. 

* sans ' * — ^^v^ithout. 

' his ' ' — its, which was just coming 
into use at this time. 

* formal cut ' ' — trim, near — not 
^^aggy a,s that of the soldier's. 

*wise sa-ws" — wise sayings. 



' * modern 

instances" — everyday 
examples, illustrations, 
strange oaths ' ' — soldiers are 
proverbially profane — probably 
satirical reference to the affec- 
tation of foreign oaths by sol- 
diers who have been abroad. 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 
Comparisons: ' ' creeping like snail ' ' 
*' sighing like furnace" 
' ^ bearded like the pard ' ' 
* eyes severe " * * woeful ballad " * * mere oblivion ' ' 

* ' Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannon's mouth" 





Give thy thoughts no tongue. 
Nor any unproportioned thought his act. 
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar : 
l^he friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in. 
Bear it, that the opposed may beware of thee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy. 
But not expressed in fancy ; rich, not gaudy : 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man. 
Neither a borrower nor a lender be : 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 

102 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
This above all, — to thine own self be true; 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
20 Thou canst not t]ien be false to any man. 

Notes and Qaestlons 

"unproportioned" — not worthy or 
fitting the occasion. 

* * familiar ' * — courteous, friendly. 

* * vulgar ' * — unduly familiar. 

** their adoption tried" — tested by 
long acquaintance. 

Put in your own words: 

*dull thy palm" — lose discrimina- 

' censure * '—opinion. 

'expressed in fancy'' — loud, 

' husbandry ' '—thrift. 

**Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
Nor any unproportioned thought his act." 

* * Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice. ' ' 
''The apparel oft proclaims the man." 
''Borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry." 

WoidB and Phrases for Otacussion 

"hoops of steel" 

4. MAN 


What a piece of work is man ! 
How noble in reason ! How infinite in faculties ! 
In form and movement, how express and admirable ! 
In action, how like an angel ! In apprehension, how like a god ! 
The beauty of the world ! The paragon of animals ! 

Words and Phxasas for DisoBSlon 

* * infinite " " apprehension » ' 

Selections from Shakespeare 103 



To BE or not to be : that is the question : 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 

5 And by opposing end them. To die ; to sleep ; 

No more ; and, by a sleep to say we end 
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep; 

lO To sleep ? Perchance to dream ! ay, there^s the rub ; 
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come 
When we have shuflBed off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause : there's the respect 
That makes calamity of so long life; 

15 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely. 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. 
The insolence of office and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes 

20 When he himself might his quietus make 

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life. 
But that the dread of something after death, 
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 
25 No traveler returns, puzzles the will 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have 
Than fly to others that we know not of ? 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 

30 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought. 
And enterprises of great pitch and moment, 
With this regard their currents turn awry. 
And lose the name of action. 

104 Elaon Grammar School Reader Book Four 


* * coil ' '—turmoil * * respect ' ' — consideration. ' * fardels ' ' — ^burdens 

WoidB and Phrases for Discussion 

** shuffled oflP this mortal coil" "pale cast of thought'' 

* * puzzles the will " " great pitch and moment ' ' 

* * native hue of resolution " 



Good name in man and woman^ dear my lord. 

Is the immediate jewel of their souls : 

Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 

Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; 

But he, that filches from me my good name, 

Robs me of that which not enriches him. 

And makes me poor indeed. 


Words and Pbrmses for Discussion 

* * immediate jewel of their souls ' ' 
^^Who steals mv purse steals trash" 



WoiSKY : Farewell, a long farewelK to aU my greatness ! 
Thi$ i$ the state of man : Today he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope: tomorrow blossoms. 
And bear^ his blushing honors thick upon him ; 
The third day comes a frosts a kiUinsr frosts 



Selections from Shakespeare 105 

And — ^when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a-ripening — nips his root ; 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders. 
This many summers, in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me, and now has left me. 
Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 
15 Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye : 
I feel my heart new opened. 0, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors ! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to. 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. — 

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, 

25 Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 

Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell; 
'And — ^when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of — say, I taught thee ; 

30 Say, Wolsey — that once trod the ways of glory, 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor — 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me. 
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : 
By that sin fell the angels : how can man, then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't ? 
Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty : 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. 
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country^ 



106 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, Cromwell, 
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king; 

45 And — Prithee, lead me in : 

There take an inventory of all I have, 

To the last penny ; 'tis the king's ; my robe. 

And my integrity to Heaven, is all 

I dare now call mine own. Cromwell, Cromwell, 

50 Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
I served my king, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies! 



*'Thi8 many summers" — this nineteen years. 
"Like Lucifer"— See Isaiah XIV, 12. 
**To play the woman" — to shed tears. 



lago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? 

Cassio, Ay, past all surgery. 

lago. Marry, heaven forbid ! 

Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation! 0, I have lost my 
5 reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what 
remains is bestial. My reputation, lago, my reputation ! 

lago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received 
some bodily wound ; there is more sense in that than in reputation. 
Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without 
10 merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at 
all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man ! there are 
ways to recover the general again: you are but now cast in his 
mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice ; even so as one 
would beat his ofFenceless dog to aflfright an imperious lion : sue to 
IS him again, and he's yours. 

Selections from Shakespeare 107 

Cas. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a 
commander ivitli so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. 
Drunk ? and speak parrot ? and squabble ? swagger ? swear ? and 
discourse fustian with one's own shadow? thou invisible spirit 
5 of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee 
devil ! 

lago. What was he that you followed with your sword ? What 
had he done to you? 
Cas. I know not. 
10 I ago. Is^t possible? 

Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a 

quarrel, but nothing wherefore. God, that men should put an 

enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains ! that we should, 

with joy, pleasanee, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into 

15 beasts ! 

lago. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus 
recovered ? 

Cas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to 
the devil wrath : one unperf ectness shows me another, to make me 
» frankly despise myself. 

lago. Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time, the 
place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily 
wish this had not befallen ; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your 
own good. 
\S Cas. I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell me I am 

a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer 
would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, 
and presently a beast! strange! Every inordinate cup is un- 
blessed and the ingredient is a devil. 
K) lago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it 

be well used : exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I 
think you think I love you. 

Co^- I have well approved it, sir. I 4runk ! 
lago. You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. 
J5 I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the gen- 

108 Elsoti Grammar School Reader Book Four 

eral: I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and 
given up himself to the contemplation, mark, aiid denotement of 
her parts and graces : confess yourself freely to her : importune her 
help to put you in your place again : she is of so free, so kind, so 
5 apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not 
to do more than she is requested: this broken joint between you 
and her husband entreat her to splinter; and my fortunes against 
any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger 
than it was before. 
10 Cos. You advise me well. 

lago. I protest in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. 
Cos, I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will 
beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am des- 
perate of my fortunes if they check me here. 
^^ lago. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must 
to the watch. 

Cos, Good night, honest lago. 


'marry' ' — an exclamation — in- 
* cast ' ' — dismissed. 

* * fustian ' ' — empty phrasing. 

* * pleasance ' * — merriment. 

* * moraler ' ' — moralizer 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

'immortal part of my- ''as many mouths as "speak parrot" 

self" Hydra" "denotement" 

'repute yourself" "crack of your love" "must to the watch' 

"false imposition" 



'He Cometh unto you with a tale which holdelh children from play and old men from 
ffie chimney comer." 

Sir Philip Sidney. 

PAET 11. 


'Washington's work is ended and the child shall be named 
after him," so said the mother of Washington Irving at his birth in 
New York, April 3, 1783. When, six years later, all New York was 
enthusiastically greeting the first President of the United States, a 
Scotch servant in the Irving family followed the President into a 
shop with the youngest son of the family and approaching him said, 
"Please, your honor, here's a bairn was named for you." Washing- 
ton, putting his hand upon the boy's head, gave him his blessing. 
It seems eminently fitting that this boy, who became known as the 
Father of American Letters, should write the biography of the 
man whose name he bore, and whom we know as the Father of 
his Country. 

New York was then the capital of the country, a city of about 
twenty-five thousand inhabitants, small enough so that it was an 
easy matter for the city boy to get into the country. New York 
itself retained many traces of its Dutch origin, and upon its street? 
could be seen men from all parts of the world. Here the boy grew 
up happy, seeing many sides of American life, both in the city and 
in the country. He was fun-loving and social, and could hardly be 
called a student. He greatly preferred "Robinson Crusoe" and 
"Sinbad'' to the construing of Latin. Best of all, he liked to go 
exploring down to the water front to see the tall ships setting sail 
for the other side of the world, or, as he grew older, up the Hudson 
and into the Catskills, or to that very Sleepy Hollow which lives 
for us now because of him. Irving liked people, and had many 
warm friends. 


112 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

These three tastes — for people, for books, and for travel — his 
life was destined to gratify. His health being delicate, he was sent 
abroad at twenty-one, and the captain of the ship he sailed in, noting 
his fragile appearance, said, "There's one who'll go overboard 
before we get across," but he happily proved a mistaken prophet. 
Irving not only survived the voyage, but spent two years traveling 
in Italy, France, Sicily, and the Netherlands. The romantic spirit 
strong within him eagerly absorbed mediaeval history and tradition. 
**My native country was full of youthful promise ; Europe was rich 
in the accumulated treasures of age." 

Upon his return home, Irving was admitted to the bar, but he 
never seriously turned his attention to law. In 1809 he published 
**A History of New York by Diedrich Knickerbocker." It was a 
humorous history of New Amsterdam, a delicious mingling of sense 
and nonsense, over which Walter Scott said his "sides were absolute- 
ly sore with laughing." While writing this history a great sorrow 
touched his life — the death of a young girl to whom he was deeply 

Ten years later, upon his second visit to Europe, Irving pub- 
lished "The Sketch Book." It rapidly won favor both in England 
and America. Byron said of it: "I know it by heart; at least 
there is not a passage that I cannot refer to immediately." This 
second visit to Europe was to be a short business trip, but as it 
chanced, it lasted seventeen years. The first five years were spent 
in England. Later he went to Spain, and as a result of this visit, 
we have a series of books dealing with Spanish history and tradi- 
tion— "The Alhambra," "The Conquest of Granada" and "The Life 
of Columbus." During all these years and in all these places, he 
met and won the regard of hosts of interesting people. Everyone 
praised his books, and everyone liked the likable American, with 
his distinguished face and gentle manners. 

In 1832 Irving was gladly welcomed back to America, for many 
had feared that his long absence might mean permanent residence 
abroad. The next ten years were spent in his beautiful home, Sun- 
nyside, at Tarrytown-on-the-Hudson, Daniel Webster, Secretary of 

Rip Van Winkle 113 

State, could find no person more gratifying to the Spanish people, 
than the author of the "Life of Columbus" and, in 1842, persuaded 
Irving to represent us at the Spanish court. After four years, he 
returned to America and passed his time almost exclusively in writ- 
ing. The work which he finished just before his death, in Novem- 
ber, 1859, was the ^T^ife of Washington.*' He was buried on a hill 
overlooking the river and a portion of the Sleepy Hollow Valley. 

Because of the ease and smoothness of his style, and bis deli- 
cate sense of form, Irving delighted his own and succeeding genera- 
tions of both his countrymen and his British cousins. All his work 
is pervaded by the strong and winning personal quality that brought 
him the love and admiration of all. Charles Dudley Warner say& 
of him : "The author loved good women and little children and a 
pure life ; he had faith in his fellow-men, a kindly sympathy with 
the lowest, without any subservience to the highest. His books are 
wholesome, full of sweetness and charm, of humor without any 
sting, of amusement without any stain; and their more solid 
qualities are marred by neither pedantry nor pretension/* 




By Woden, God of Saxons, 
. From whence comes Wensday, that Is Wodensday. 
Truth Is a thing that ever I wlH keep 
Unto thylke day in which I creep Into 
My sepulchre. Cabtwbioht. 

The following tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich 
Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious 
in tho Dutch history of the province, and the manners of the descend- 

114 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

ants from its primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, 
did not lie so much among books as among men; for the former are 
lamentably scanty on his favorite topics; whereas he found the old 
burghers, and still more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so 
invaluable to true history. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon 
a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut tip in its low-roofed farmhouse 
under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as a little clasped 
volume of black-letter, and studied it with the zeal of a book worm. 

The result of all these researches was a history of the province 
during the feign of the Dutch governors, which he published some 
years since. There have been various opinions as to the literary 
character of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whit better 
than it should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which 
indeed was a little questioned on its first appearance, but has since 
been completely established; and it is now admitted into all historical 
collections, as a book of unquestionable authority. 

The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work, 
and now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his 
memory to say that his time might have been much better employed 
in weightier labors. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own 
way; and though it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the 
eyes of his neighbors, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom 
he felt the truest deference and affection; yet his errors and follies 
are remembered ''more in sorrow than in anger," and it begins to be 
suspected that he never intended to injure or offend. But however 
his memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by 
many folk, whose good opinion is worth having; particularly by 
certain biscuit-bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness 
on their new-year cakes; and have thus given him a chance for 
immortality, almost equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, 
or a Queen Anne 's Farthing. 

Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember 
the Kaatskill Mountains. They are a dismembered branch of 
the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of 
the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the 
S surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of 
weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change 
in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they 
are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect 
barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are 

Rip Van Winkle 115 

clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on 
the clear evening sky ; but sometimes when the rest of the land- 
scape is cloudless they will gather a hood of gray vapors about 
their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will 

S glow and light up like a crown of glory. 

At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have 
descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle- 
roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the 
upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. 

10 It is a little village of great antiquity, having been founded by 
some of the Dutch colonists in the early time of the province, 
just about the beginning of the government of the good Peter 
Stuyvesant (may he rest in p6ace!), and there were some of 
the houses of the original settlers standing within a few years, 

15 built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having lat- 
ticed windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. 
In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, 
to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather- 
beaten), there lived many years since, while the country was 

20 yet a province of Great Britain, a simple, good-natured fellow, 
of the name of Eip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the 
Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days 
of Peter Stuyresant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort 
Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial 

25 character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was a 
simple, good-natured man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, 
and an obedient henpecked husband. Indeed, to the latter cir- 
cumstance might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained 
him such universal popularity ; for those men are most apt to be 

30 obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline 
of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered 
pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation ; 
and a curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for 
teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering, A terma- 

116 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

gant wife may, therefore, in some respects be considered a toler- 
able blessing, and if so, Bip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. 

Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good 
wives of the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took 
5 his part in all family squabbles; and never failed, whenever 
they talked those matters over in their evening gossipings, to 
lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the 
village, too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. He 
assisted at their sports, made their plaj'things, taught them to 

10 fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, 
witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the 
village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his 
skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on 
him with impunity ; and not a dog would bark at him through- 

15 out the neighborhood. 

The great error in Eip's composition was an insuperable 
aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from 
the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet 
rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartarus lance, and 

20 fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be 
encouraged by a single nibble. He would carry a fowling- 
piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods 
and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels 
or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor, 

25 even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country 
frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone-fences; the 
women of the village, too, used to employ him to run their 
errands, and to do such little odd jobs as their less obliging 
husbands would not do for them. In a word, Bip was read} 

30 to attend to anybody's business but his own; but as to doing 
family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm ; it 
was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole coun- 

35 try; everything about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in 

Rip Van Winkle 117 

spite of him. His fences were continually falling to pieces; 
his cow would either go astray or get among the cabbages; 
weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere 
else; the rain always made a point of setting in just as he had 

5 some out-door work to do ; so that though his patrimonial estate 
had dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until 
there was little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn 
and potatoes, yet it was the worst-conditioned farm in the 

10 His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged 
to nobody. His son Hip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, 
promised to inherit the habits, with the old clothes of his 
father. He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his 
mother's heels, equipped in a pair of father's cast-oflP galli- 

15 gaskins, which he had much ado to hold up with one hand, as 
a fine lady does her train in bad weather. 

Kip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, 
of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat 
white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought 

20 or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for 
a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away 
in perfect contentment ; but his wife kept continually dinning 
in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he 
was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night her 

25 tongue was incessantly going, and everything he said or did was 
sure to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Hip had but 
one way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by 
frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoul- 
ders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, 

30 however, always provoked a fresh volley from his wife; so that 
he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of 
the house — ^the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen- 
pecked husband. 
Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as 

35 much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van Winkle regarded 

118 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf 
with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often 
astray. True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable 
dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods 

5 — but what courage can withstand the ever-during and all-beset- 
ting terrors of a woman's tongue? The moment Wolf entered 
the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled 
between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting 
many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least 

10 flourish of a broomstick or ladle he would fly to the door with 
yelping precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with Eip Van Winkle as years 
of matrimony rolled on; a tart temper never mellows with age, 
and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener 

15 with constant use. For a long while he used to console himself, 
when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual 
club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the 
village; which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, 
designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George the 

20 Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long lazy 
summer's day, talking listlessly over village gossip, or telling 
endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been 
worth any statesman's money to have heard the profound dis- 
cussions that sometimes took place, when by chance an old 

25 newspaper fell into their hands from some passing traveler. 
How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out 
by Derrick Van Bummel, the school-master, a dapper learned 
little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic 
word in the dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate 

30 upon public events some months after they had taken place. 

The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by 

Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of 

the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning till 

night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the 

35 shade of a large tree; so that the neighbors could tell the hour 

Bip Van Winkle 119 

by his movements as accurately as by a sun-dial. It is true 
he was rarely heard to speak^ but smoked his pipe incessantly. 
His adherents, however (for every great man has his adherents), 
perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. 

5 When anything that was read or related displeased him, he was 
observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short, 
frequent and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale 
the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid 
clouds; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and 

10 letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely 
nod his head in token of perfect approbation. 

From even this stronghold the unlucky Hip was at length 
routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break in 
upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the members 

IS all to naught ; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder 

himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, 

who. charged hiin outright with encouraging her husband in 

habits of idleness. 

Poor Eip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and his only 

20 alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm and clamor 
of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away into the 
woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of 
a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with 
whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. "Poor 

25 Wolf," he would say, "thy mistress leads thee a dog^s life of it; 
but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a 
friend to stand by thee!^' Wolf would wag his tail, look wist- 
fully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel pity I verily 
believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart. 

30 In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Eip 
had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the 
Kaatskill Mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel 
shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with 
the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, 

35 late in the afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain 

120 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an open- 
ing between the trees he could overlook all the lower country 
for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the 
lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but 
5 majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the 
sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy 
bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands. 

On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, 
wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from 

10 the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays 
of the setting sun. For some time Eip lay musing on this 
scene; evening was gradually advancing; the mountains began 
to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys; he saw that 
it would be dark long before he could reach the village, and he 

15 heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the ter- 
rors of Dame Van Winkle. 

As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, 
hallooing, "Eip Van Winkle ! Bip Van Winkle I'' He looked 
round, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary 

20 flight across the moimtain. He thought his fancy must have 
deceived him, and turned again to descend, when he heard the 
same cry ring through the still evening air : "Rip Van Winkle ! 
Eip Van Winkle I" — at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, 
and giving a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking 

25 fearfully down into the glen. Eip now felt a vague appre- 
hension stealing over him ; he looked anxiously in the same direc- 
tion, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, 
and bending under the weight of something he carried on his 
back. He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely 

30 and unfrequented place; but supposing it to be some one of 
the neighborhood in need of assistance, he hastened down to 
yield it. 

On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singu- 
larity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short, square- 

35 built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. 

Rip Van Winkle 121 

His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion: a cloth jerkin 
strapped round the waist, several pair of breeches, the outer one 
of ample volume, decorated with rows 'of buttons down the 
sides, and bunches at the knees. He bor^s on his shoulder a stout 

5 keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to 
approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and 
distrustful of this new acquaintance, Bip complied with his 
nsTial alacrity; and mutually relieving one another, they clam- 
bered up a narrow gully, apparently th^ dry bed of a moun- 

10 tain torrent. As they ascended, Eip every now and then heard 
long rolling peals like distant thunder, that seemed to issue 
out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward 
which their rugged path conducted. He paused for a moment, 
but supposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient 

15 thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights, 
he proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hol- 
low, like a small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular 
precipices, over the brinks of which impending trees shot their 
branches, so that you only caught glimpses of the azure sky 

20 and the bright evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and 
his companion had labored on in silence; for though the former 
marveled greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg 
of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange 
and incomprehensible about the unknown, that inspired awe and 

25 checked familiarity. 

On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder pre- 
sented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a com- 
pany of odd-looking personages playing at ninepins. They 
were dressed in a quaint outlandish fashion; some wore short 

30 doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and 
most of them had enormous breeches of similar style with that 
of the guldens. Their visages, too, were peculiar; one had a 
large beard, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the face of 
another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted 

35 by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock'B tail 

122 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was 
one who seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old 
gentleman, with a weather-beaten countenance; he wore a laced 
doublet, broad belt and hanger, high-crowned hat and feather, 
5 red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with roses in them. The 
whole group reminded Bip of the figures in an old Flemish 
painting in the parlor of Dominie Van Shaick, the village par- 
son, which had been brought over from Holland at the time of 
the settlement. 

10 What seemed particularly odd to Bip was, that though these 
folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained 
the gravest faces, the most mysterious sileiice, and were, withal, 
the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. 
Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but tiie noise of 

15 the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the 
mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. 

As Bip and his companion approached them, they suddenly 
desisted from their play, and stared at him with such fixed, 
statue-like gaze, and such strange, Tincouth, lack-lustre coun- 

20 tenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote 
together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg 
into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the 
company. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed 
the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game. 

25 By degrees Bip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even 
ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the bever- 
age, which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hol- 
lands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted 
to repeat the draught One taste provoked another; and he 

30 reiterated his visits to the flagon so often that at length his 
senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head 
gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep. 

On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he 

had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes— 

. 35 it was a bright, sunny morning. The birds were hopping and 

Rip Van Winkle 123 

twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, 
and breasting the pure mountain breeze. "Surely," thought 
Eip, "I have not slept here all night/' He recalled the occur- 
rences before he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of 
5 liquor — the mountain ravine — the wild retreat among the rocks 
—the woe-begone party at ninepins — the flagon — ^*^0h! that 
flagon! that wicked flagon!" thought Eip— "what excuse shall 
I make to Dame Van Winkle?" 
He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, well- 

10 oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the 
barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock 
worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roisterers of the 
mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with 
liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, 

IS but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. 

He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in vain; 

the echoes repeated his whistle and shout; but no dog was to be 


He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gam- 

20 bol, and if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and 
gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, 
and wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do 
not agree with me," thought Rip, "and if this frolic should lay 
me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time 

25 with Dame Van Winkle." With some difficulty he got down 
into the glen; he found the gully up which he and his com- 
panion had ascended the preceding evening ; but to his astonish- 
ment a mouiitain stream was now foaming down it, leaping 
from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling murmurs. 

30 He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working his 
toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch- 
hazel, and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the wild 
grapevines that twisted their coils or tendrils from tree to tree, 
and spread a kind of network in his path. 

35 At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through 

124 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

the cliffs to the amphitheatre; but no traces of such opening 
remained. The rocks presented a high^ impenetrable wall, over 
which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, 
and fell into a broad, deep basin, black from the shadows of the 

5 surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Eip was brought to a 
stand. He again called and whistled after his dog; he was 
only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting 
high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; 
and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and 

10 scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to be done ? the 
morning was passing away, and Bip felt famished for want of 
his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he 
dreaded to meet his wife ; but it would pot do to starve among 
the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty fire- 

15 lock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his 
steps homeward. 

As he approached the village he met a number of people, but 
none whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had 
thought himself, acquainted with every one in the country 

20 round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to 
which he was accustomed. They all stared at him with equal 
marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, 
invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this 
gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to 

25 his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long ! 
He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of 
strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and point- 
ing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he rec- 
ognized for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. 

30 The very village was altered; it was larger and more populouF. 
There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and 
those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. 
Strange names were over the doors — ^strange faces at the win- 
dows,— everything was strange. His mind now misgave him; 

35 he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him 

Rip Van Winkle 125 

were not bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which 
he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill 
Mountains — ^there ran the silver Hudson at a distance — ^there 
was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been — Bip 

5 was sorely perplexed — "That flagon last night," thought he, 
'lias addled my poor head sadly !" 

It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own 
house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every 
moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found 

10 the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shat- 
tered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog that 
looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Bip called him by 
name,- but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. 
This was an unkind cut indeed — ^**My very dog," sighed poor 

15 Bip, *Tias forgotten me !" 

He entered the house, which, to tell the truth. Dame Van 
Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, 
and apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his 
connubial fears — ^he called loudly for his wife and children — 

^ the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and 
then again all was silence. 

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the 
village inn — but it, too, was gone. A large, rickety wooden 
building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some 

25 of them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and 
over the door was painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan 
Doolittle." Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the 
quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall 
naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red 

30 night-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a 
singular assemblage of stars and stripes — ^all this was strange 
and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, however, the 
ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so 
many a peaceful pipe; but even this was singularly metamor- 

35 phosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a 

126 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was 
decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in 
large characters. General Washington. 

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none 

5 that Eip recollected. The very character of the people seemed 
changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about 
it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. 
He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad 
face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobaceo- 

10 smoke instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the school- 
master, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In 
place of these, a lean bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets 
full of hand bills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of 
citizens — elections — ^members of congress — ^liberty — Bunker's 

15 Hill — heroes of seventy-six — ^and other words, which were a per- 
fect Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. 

The appearance of Eip, with his long grizzled beard, his 
rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women 
and children at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the 

20 tavern-politicians. They crowded round him, eying him from 
head to foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, 
and, drawing him partly aside, inquired "on which side he 
voted?" Bip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but 
busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, 

25 inquired in his ear, "Whether he was Federal or Democrat?' 
Bip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when a 
knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, 
made his way .through the crowd, putting them to the right and 
left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before 

30 Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his 
cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into 
his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, "what brought him 
to the election with a gun on his shoulder and a mob at his 
heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village?" — 

35 "Alas! gentlemen/' cried Bip, somewhat dismayed, "I am a 

Bip Van Winkle 127 

poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the 
king, God bless him V^ 

Here a general shout burst from the bystanders — "A tory! 
a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with him !" It was 
5 with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked 
hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of 
brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit what he came 
there for, and whom he was seeking? The poor man humbly 
assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in 
10 search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the 

"Well — ^who are they? — name them/' 

Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's 
Nicholas Vedder?" 
15 There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, 
in a thin, piping voice : "Nicholas Vedder ! why, he is dead and 
gone these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone in 
the churchyard that used to tell ajl about him, but that's rotten 
and gone too." 
20 "Where's Brom Dutcher?" 

"Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; 
some say he was. killed at the storming of Stony Point — others 
say he was drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose. I 
don't know — he never came back again." 
25 "Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" 

"He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and 
is now in Congress." 

Eip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his 
home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. 
30 Every answer puzzled him too, by treating of such enormous 
lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand: 
war — Congress. — Stony Point; he had no courage to ask after 
any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody here 
know Rip Van Winkle ?" 

128 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

"Oh, Hip Van Winkle !" exclaimed two or three, "Oh, to be 

sure ! that's Bip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree." 

Bip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself, as 

he went up the mountain : apparently as lazy, and certainly as 

S ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He 
doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another 
man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked 
hat demanded who he was, and what was his name ? 

"God knows,'* exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself 

10 — I'm somebody else — ^that's me yonder — ^no— that's somebody 
else got into my shoes — ^I was myself last night, but I fell asleep 
on the mountain, and they've changed my gun, and everything's 
changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or 
who I am !" 

15 The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink 
significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. 
There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping 
the old fellow. from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of 
which the self-important man in the cocked hat retired with 

20 some precipitation. At this critical moment a fresh, comely 
woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray- 
bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, 
frightened at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Bip," cried she, 
^Tiush, you little fool ; the old man won't hurt you." The name 

25 of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all 
awakened a train of recollections in his mind. **What is your 
name, my good woman?" asked he. 
"Judith Gardenier." 
"And your father's name ?" 

30 "Ah, poor man, Bip Van Winkle was his name, but it's twenty 
years since he went away from home with his gun, and never 
has been heard of since, — ^his dog came home without him; but 
whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, 
nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl." 

Rip Van Winkle 129 

Bip had but one question more to ask ; and he put it with a 
faltering voice : — 

"Where's your mother?" 

"Oh, she too had died but a short time since; she broke a 
5 blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New England peddler/' 

There was a drop of comfort at least, in this intelligence. 

The honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught 

his daughter and her child in his arms. "I am your father !'* 

cried he — ^^^Young Eip Van Winkle once — old Eip Van Winkle 

10 nowl Does nobody know poor Eip Van Winkle?" 

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from 

among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under 

it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, "Sure enough, it is Eip 

Van Winkle — it is himself ! Welcome home again, old neighbor 

IS — ^Why, where have you been these twenty long years?" 

Eip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been 
to him but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard 
it; some were seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues 
in their cheeks; and the self-important man in the cocked hat^ 
20 who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed 
down the corners of his mouth and shook his head — ^upon which 
there was a general shaking of the head throughout the 

It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter 
25 Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He 
was a descendant of the historian of that name, who wrofte one 
of the earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most 
ancient inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the won- 
derful events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected 
30 Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory 
manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed 
down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill Moun- 
tains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was 
afiirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of 

130 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty 
years, with his crew of the Half -moon; being permitted in this 
way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian 
eye upon the river and the great city called by his name. That 

S his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing 

at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain; and that be himself 

had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls like 

distant peals of thunder. 

To make a long story short, the company broke up, and re- 

10 turned to the more important concerns of the election. Bip's 
daughter took him home to live with her ; she had a snug well- 
furnished house, and a stout cheery farmer for a husband, whom 
Bip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon 
his back. As to Eip's son and heir, who was the ditto of him- 

15 self, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on 
the farm; but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to 
anything else but his business. 

Bip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found 
many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the 

20 wear and tear of time; and preferred making friends among 

the rising generation, with whom he soon grew into great favor. 

Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that 

happy age when a man can be idle with impunity, he took his 

place once more on the bench at the inn door, and was rever- 

25 enced as one of the patriarchs of the village, and a chronicle of 
the old times 'T)efore the war." It was some time before he 
could get into the regular track of gossip, or could be made to 
comprehend the strange events that had taken place during his 
torpor. How that there had been a revolutionary war — ^that 

30 the country had thrown oflf the yoke of old England — and that, 
instead of being a subject of his Majesty George the Third, he 
was mow a fi«ee citizen of the United States. Bip, in fact, was 
no politician ; the changes of states and empires made but little 
impression on him ; but there was one species of despotism under 

35 which he had long groaned, and that was — ^petticoat govern- 

Rip Van Winkle 


ment. Happily that was at an end; he had got his neck out of 
the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he 
pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. 
Whenever her name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, 

5 shrugged his shoulders, and cast up his eyes, which might pass 
either for an expression of resignation to his fate, or joy at his 

He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. 
Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some 

10 points every time he told it, which was, doubtless, owing to his 
having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to 
the tale I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the 
neighborhood but knew it by heart. Some always pretended to 
doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Hip had been out of 

IS his head, and that this was one point on which he always 
remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost 
universally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear 
a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but 
they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of 

20 ninepins; and it is a common wish of all henpecked husbands 
in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that 
they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's 


The three stages of the story are: The sleep, the return, the recogni- 
tion. Through them all personal identity remains. 

Notes and Qaestions 

Bip Van Winkle — the man: his 
characteristics, habits, family. 

The place: the village, the inn, the 
surroundings, the times. 

The autumn ramble: the woods, 
the dog, the gun, the Hudson, 
the stranger, the ''ninepins" 

company, the flagon, the waking 
— the changed scenes. 

The afternoon of the day, the 
afternoon of the year (autumn), 
and the afternoon of life (old 
man) are chosen by the author. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

What is the fitness in selecting a 
village near the mountains f Why 
choose a village at allf 

Note the civic progress of the peo- 
ple — the change from a royal 
dependency to an independent 

Locate on the map the scene of 
this selection and tell the period 
in which it occurred. Point out 
parts of the story that tell you 
when it happened. 

Select descriptions in this selec- 
tion that are especially pleasing. 

** puzzled" 
** enormous" 
*.* grizzled" 

Words and Phrases for Discussioii 

* austere ' ' 
'cocked hat" 
'ruby face" 
'gaping windows" 

' self-important man" 
'vacant stupidity" 
'well-oiled disposition" 
' torrent of household 
eloquence ' ' 

From "The Sketch Book," by 


Ships, ships, I will descrie you 

Amidst the main, 
I will come and try you, 
What you are protecting. 
And projecting, 

What's your end and aim. 
One goes abroad for merchandise and trading, 
Another stays to keep his country from invading, 
A third is coming home with rich and wealthy lading. 
Halloo! my fancie, whither wilt thou go? 

Old i^oEic. 

To AN American visiting Europe, the long voyage he has to 
make is an excellent preparative. The temporary absence of 
worldly scenes and employments produces a state of mind peculiarly 
fitted to receive new and vivid impressions. The vast space of 
waters that separates the hemispheres is like a blank page in exist- 
ence. There is no gradual transition, by which, as in Europe, the 
features and population of one country blend almost imperceptibly 
with those of another. From the moment you lose sight of the 

The Voyage 133 

land you have left, all is vacancy until you step on the opposite 
shore, and are launched at once into the bustle ^nd novelties of 
another world. 
In traveling by land there is a continuity of scene and a con* 

5 nected succession of persons and incidents, that carry on the 
story of life, and lessen the eflEect of absence and separation. We 
drag, it is true, "a lengthening chain,^' at each remove of our 
pilgrimage ; but the chain is unbroken : we can trace it back link 
by link ; and we feel that the last still grapples us to home. But a 

10 wide sea voyage severs us at once. It makes us conscious of being 
cast loose from the secure anchorage of settled life, and sent 
adrift upon a doubtful world. It interposes a gulf, not merely 
imaginary, but real, between us and our homes — ^a gulf subject 
to tempest, and fear, and uncertainty, rendering distance pal- 

15 pable, and return precarious. 

Such, at least, was the case with myself. As I saw the last 
blue line of my native land fade away like a cloud in the horizon, 
it seemed as if I had closed one volume of the world and its 
concerns, and had time for meditation, before I opened another. 

^ That land, too, now vanishing from my view, which contained 
all most dear to me in life ; what vicissitudes might occur in it 
— ^what changes might take place in me, before I* should visit it 
again ! Who can tell, when he sets forth to wander, whither he 
may be driven by the uncertain currents of existence; or when 

25 he may return ; or whether it may ever be his lot to revisit the 
scenes of his childhood ? 

I said that at sea all is vacancy; I should correct the expres- 
sion. To one given to day-dreaming, and fond of losing himself 
in reveries, a sea voyage is full of subjects for meditation : but 

30 then they are the wonders of the deep, and of the air, and 
rather tend to abstract the mind from worldly themes. I 
delighted to loll over the quarter-railing, or climb to the main- 
top, of a calm day, and muse for hours together on the tran- 
quil bosom of a summer's sea; to gaze upon the piles of golden 

35 clouds just peering above the horizon, fancy them some fairy 

134 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

realms, and people them with a creation of my own ; — ^to watch 
the gentle undulating billows, rolling their silver volumes, as if 
to die away on those happy shores. 

There was a delicious sensation of mingled security and awe 
5 with which I looked down from my giddy height, on the mon- 
sters of the deep at their uncouth gambols. Shoals of porpoises 
tumbling about the bow of the ship, the grampus slowly heaving 
his huge form above the surface ; or the ravenous shark, darting, 
like a spectre, through the blue waters. My imagination would 

10 conjure up all that I had heard or read of the watery world 
beneath me; of the finny herds that roam its fathomless valleys; 
of the shapeless monsters that lurk among the very foundations 
of the earth ; and of those wild phantasms that swell the tales of 
fishermen and sailors. 

15 Sometimes a distant sail, gliding along the edge of the ocean, 
would be another theme of idle speculation. How interesting 
this fragment of a world, hastening to rejoin the great mass of 
existence! What a glorious monument of human invention; 
which has in a manner triumphed over wind and wave; Ms 

20 brought the ends of the world into communion ; has established 
an interchange of blessings, pouring into the sterile regions of 
the north all the luxuries of the south ; has diffused the light of 
knowledge and the charities of cultivated life; and has thus 
bound together those scattered portions of the human race, 

2S between which nature seemed to have thrown an insurmountable 

We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at a dis- 
tance. At sea, everything that breads the monotony of the sur- 
rounding expanse attracts attention. It proved to be the mast 

90 of a ship that must have been completely wrecked; for there 
were the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew 
had fastened themselves to this spar, to prevent their being 
washed off by the waves. There was no trace by which the 
name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently 

35 drifted about for many months; clusters of shell-fish had fas- 

The Voyage 135 

tened about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. But 

where, thought I, is the crew? Their struggle has long been 

over — they have gone down amidst the roar of the tempest — 

their bones lie whitening among the caverns of the deep. Silence, 

5 oblivion, like the waves, have closed over them, and no one can 

tell the story of their end. What sighs have been wafted after 

that ship! what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of 

home ! How often has the mistress, the wife, the mother, pored 

over the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this 

10 rover of the deep 1 How has expectation darkened into anxiety 

— anxiety into dread — and dread into despair! Alas! not one 

memento may ever return for love to cherish. All that may ever 

be known, is, that she sailed from her port, ''and was never heard 

of moreP 

IS The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many dismal 

anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the evening, when 

the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began to look wild 

and threatening, and gave indications of one of those sudden 

storms which will sometimes break in upon the serenity of a 

20 summer voyage. As we sat round the dull light of a lamp in 

the cabin, that made the gloom more ghastly, every one had 

his tale of shipwreck and disaster. I was particularly struck 

with a short, one related by the captain. 

"As I was once sailing," said he, "in a fine stout ship across 
25 the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy fogs which 
prevail in those parts rendered it impossible for us to see far 
ahead even in the daytime ; but at night the weather was so thick 
that we could not distinguish any object at twice the length of 
the ship. I kept lights at the mast-head, and a constant watch 
30 forward to look out for fishing smacks, which are accustomed 
to lie at anchor on the banks. The wind was blowing a smack- 
ing breeze, and we were going at a great rate through the water. 
Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of 'a sail ahead!' — it was 
scaijcely uttered before we were upon her. She was a small 
35 schooner, at anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew 

136 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

were all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. We struck 
her just amidships. The force, the size, the weight of our vessel 
bore her down below the waves; we passed over her and were 
hurried on our course. As the crashing wreck was sinking 
S beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches 
rushing from her cabin ; they just started from their beds to be 
swallowed shrieking by the waves. I heard their drowning cry 
mingling with the wind. The blast that bore it to our ears 
swept us out of all farther hearing. I shall never forget that 

to cry ! It was some time before we could put the ship about, she 
was under such headway. We returned, as nearly as we could 
guess, to the place where the smack had anchored. We cruised 
about for several hours in the dense fog. We fired signal guns, 
and listened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors : but 

15 all was silent — ^we never saw or heard anything of them more." 

T confess these stories, for a time, put an end to all my fine 

fancies. The storm increased with the night. The sea was 

lashed into tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen 

sound of rushing waves, and broken surges. Deep called unto 

20 deep. At times the black column of clouds overhead seemed 
rent asunder by flashes of lightning which quivered along the 
foaming billows, and made the succeeding darkness doubly ter- 
rible. The thunders bellowed over the wild waste of waters, and 
were echoed and prolonged by the mountain waves. As I saw 

25 the ship staggering and plunging among these roaring caverns, 
it seemed miraculous that die regained her balance, or preserved 
her buoyancy. Her yards would dip into the water : her bow was 
almost buried beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending 
surge appeared ready to overwhelm her, and nothing but a 

30 dexterous movement of the helm preserved her from the shock. 

When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed 

me. The whistling of the vrind through the rigging sounded 

like funereal wailings. The creaking of the masts, the straining 

and groaning of bulk-heads, as the diip labored in the weltering 

The Voyage 137 

sea, were frightful. As I heard the waves rushing along the 
sides of the ship, and roaring in my very ear, it seemed as if 
Death were raging round this floating prison, seeking for his 
prey : the mere starting of a nail, the yawning of a seam, might 

S give him entrance. 

A fine day, however, with a tranquil sea and favoring breeze, 
soon put all these dismal reflections to flight. It is impossible 
to resist the gladdening influence of fine weather and fair wind 
at sea. When the ship is decked out in all her canvas, every 

10 sail swelled, and careering gayly over the curling waves, how 
lofty, how gallant she appears — how she seems to lord it over 
the deep ! 

I might fill a volume with the reveries of a sea voyage, for 
with me it is almost a continual reverie — ^but it is time to get 

15 to shore. 

It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of '^and !" 
was given from the mast-head. None but those who have experi- 
enced it can form an idea of the delicious throng of sensations 
which rush into an American's bosom, when he first comes in 

20 sight of Europe. There is a volume of associations with the 

very name. It is the land of promise, teeming with every thing 

of which his childhood has heard, or on which his studious years 

have pondered. 

From that time until the moment of arrival, it was all fever- 

25 ish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled like guardian 
giants along the coast ; the headlands of Ireland, stretching out 
into the channel ; the Welsh mountains, towering into the clouds ; 
all were objects of intense interest. As we sailed up the Mersey 
I reconnoitred the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt with 

30 delight on neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and green 
grass plots. I saw the mouldering ruin of an abbey overrun 
with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church rising from 
the brow of a neighboring hill — ^all were characteristic of Eng- 

138 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

The tide and wind were so favorable that the ship was enabled 
to come at once to the pier. It was thronged with people ; some, 
idle lookers-on, others, eager expectants of friends or relatives. 
I could distinguish the merchant to whom the ship was eon- 

5 signed. I knew him by his calculating brow and restless air. 
His hands were thrust into his pockets; he was whistling thought- 
fully, and walking to and fro, a small space having been accorded 
him by the crowd, in deference to his temporary importance. 
There were repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged 

10 between the shore and the ship, as friends happened to recog- 
nize each other. I particularly noticed one young woman of 
humble dress, but interesting demeanor. She was leaning for- 
ward from among the crowd ; her eye hurried over the ship as it 
neared the shore, to catch some wished-for countenance. She 

15 seemed disappointed and agitated; when I heard a faint voice 
call her name. It was from a poor sailor who had been ill all 
the voyage, and had excited the sympathy of every one on board. 
When the weather was fine, his messmates had spread a mattress 
for him on deck in the shade, but of late his illness had so 

20 increased that he had taken to his hammock, and only breathed 
a wish that he might see his wife before he died. He had been 
helped on deck as we came up the river, and was now leaning 
against the shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale, so 
ghastly, that it was no wonder even the eye of affection did not 

25 recognize him. But at the sound of his voice, her eye darted on 
his features; it read, at once, a whole volume of sorrow; she 
clasped her hands, uttered a faint shriek, and stood wringing 
them in silent agony. 

All now was hurry and bustle. The meetings of aequaint- 

30 ances — ^the greetings of friends — ^the consultations of men of 
business. I alone was solitary and idle. I had no friend to 
meet, no cheering to receive. I stepped upon the land of my 
forefathers — but felt that I was a stranger in the land. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne 


Notes and Questiomi 

Why did the author realize so 
clearly the extent of the journey 
he had undertaken? 

How many days do you think Ir- 
ving was en the ocean f 

What change has taken place in 
the method of ocean travel since 
he made this voyage f 

Find words and lines which tell 
you the kind of vessel in which 
he crossed the ocean. 

Had Irving greater opportunity 
for observing **the monsters of 
the deep" than is afforded peo- 
ple crossing the ocean at the 
present day? Why do you 
think sof 

What does Irving say is a ''glo- 
rious monument of human in- 

Name some inventions which seem 
to you more worthy of this 

Find the paragraph which de- 
scribes the mast of a ship that 
was wrecked. 

How does this description com- 
pare with his description of the 
''monsters of the deep"f 

Which description in this selection 
do you like best? Why? 

What do you think of Irving 's 
powers of description? 

What does this sketch tell you of 
Irving 's own character? 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 
"undulating billows" "idle speculation" "reconnoitred" 

"delicious sensation" "dread", "abbey" 

"wild phantasms" "despair" "anxiety" 

"monument of human invention" "prowled like guardian giants" 
"light of knowledge" "insurmountable barrier" 

"dismal anecdotes" 


The ancestors of Hawthorne, unlike those of most of the New 
England writers, were not of the clergy, but were seamen, soldiers, 
and magistrates. Concerning one of these, a judge who dealt harsh- 
ly with the Salem witches, Hawthorne writes : 'T take shame upon 
myself for their sakes and yet strong traits of their nature have 
intertwined themselves with mine/' Hawthorne was born in Salem, 
Massachusetts, July 4, 1804, and when only four years old lost his 
father, a sea captain. 

The happiest years of his boyhood were spent at his uncle's 

140 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

home in the forests of Maine. Here he loved to wander through 
the woods, afterwards recording carefully his observatious. His 
early education was rather irregular; however, for a time he had 
for schoolmaster, Worcester, the author of the dictionary. At Bow- 
doin college his studies were largely literary. His life at college 
is chiefly remarkable for the friendships formed there. Both 
Franklin Pierce, who later became president of the United States, 
and Longfellow, the poet, were members of his class. 

After* graduation in 1825, while Longfellow was traveling in 
many lands and yielding himself to the charm of mediaeval history 
and legend, Hawthorne drifted into a strange mode of life, virtually 
disappearing from the world for a dozen years and living in actual 
solitude. "I have made a captive of myself," he wrote to Long- 
fellow, "and put me into a dungeon; and now I cannot find the 
key to let myself out.^^ But the key was found. The appreciation 
of Elizabeth and Sophia Peabody and the deep affection for the 
latter acted as a spur to get him into active life. At thirty-eight 
he married Sophia Peabody and took up courageously enough a life 
of poverty and hard literary work at Concord in the Old Manse, 
which had formerly been Emerson's home. There he came to know 
and value the friendship of Emerson, who we may well believe was 
the inspiration of the allegory of the Great Stone Face. 

In curious contradiction with his natural love for solitude, 
Hawthorne became interested in the experiment of communal life 
and spent the year before his marriage at Brook Farm, where a 
number of literary men tried to live simply and happily by com- 
bining intellectual and manual work. 

During the years of his solitude he wrote incessantly and 
composed many of those sketches of the fancy which won for him 
his peculiar place in literature. Many of these sketches appeared 
in the collection "Twice Told Tales." For children he has written 
the little stories and biographies of "Grandfather's Chair" and the 
story of Greek and Eoman Myths in his "Wonder-Book" and 
"Tanglewood Tales." Sin and the effect of guilt upon human con- 
duct are the problems in his great romances. 

The Great Stone Face 141 

Many of our literary men have held public positions, sometimes 
to help out the meager financial returns of literary work, but more 
often because they would bring honor to these positions. Hawthorne 
successively filled the offices of weigher and ganger m the Boston 
Custom House, collector of customs at Salem, and American 
consul at Liverpool, having been appointed as consul by his old 
friend President Pierce. After four years' residence in England 
he resigned his consulship and spent several years in travel on the 
continent, spending two winters in Rome. Here he conceived his 
"Marble Faun," which, though given an Italian setting, embodies 
the same problem of conscience that we find in his earlier "Scarlet 

In June, 1860, he returned to America. He was deeply agitated 
by the Civil War, the more so because his sympathies were not en- 
tirely with his Northern friends. In May, 1864, his old friend 
General Pierce suggested that they make a journey to the scenes 
of their college days. On their way they stopped at Plymouth, New 
Hampshire, and there, early on the morning of the nineteenth, he 
passed quietly away. 



One afternoon, when the sun was going down, a mother and 

her little boy sat at the door of their cottage, talking about the 

Great Stone Face. They had but to lift their eyes, and there it was 

plamly to be seen, though miles away, with the sunshine brighten- 

S ing all its features. 

And what was the Great Stone !Pace ? 

Embosomed amongst a family of lofty mountains, thei*e was a 
valley so spacious that it contained many thousand inhabitants. 
Some of these good people dwelt in log-huts, with the black forest 
10 all around them, on the steep and difficult hillsides Others had 
their homes in comfortable farm-houses, and cultivated the rich 
soil on the gentle slopes or level surfaces of the valley. Others, 

142 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

again, were congregated into populous villages, where some 
wild, highland rivulet, tumbling down from its birthplace in 
the upper mountain region, had been caught and tamed by 
human cunning, and compelled to turn the machinery of cotton- 

5 factories. The inhabitants of this valley, in short, were numer- 
ous, and of many modes of life. But all of them, grown 
people and children, had a kind of familiarity with the Great 
Stone Face, although some possessed the gift of distinguishing 
this grand natural phenomenon more perfectly than many of 

10 their neighbors. 

The Great Stone Face, then, was a work of Nature in her 
mood of majestic playfulness, formed on the perpendicular side 
of a mountain by some immense rocks, which had been thrown 
together in such a position as, when viewed at a proper dis- 

15 tance, precisely to resemble the features of the human coun- 
tenance. It seemed as if an enormous giant, or a Titan, had 
sculptured his own likeness on the precipice. There was the 
broad arch of the forehead, a hundred feet in height ; the nose, 
with its long bridge; and the vast lips, which, if they could 

20 have spoken, would have rolled their thunder accents from one 
end of the valley to the other. True it is, that if the spectator 
approached too near, he lost the outline of the gigantic visage, 
and could discern only a heap of ponderous and gigantic rocks, 
piled in chaotic ruin one upon another. Retracing his steps, 

25 however, the wondrous features would again be seen; and the 
farther he withdrew from them, the more like a human face, 
with all its original divinity intact, did they appear; until, as 
it grew dim in the distance, with the clouds and glorified vapor 
of the mountains clustering about it, the Great Stone Face 

30 seemed positively to be alive. 

It was a happy lot for children to grow up to manhood or 
womanhood with the Great Stone Face before their eyes, for 
all the features were noble, and the expression was at once 
grand and sweet, as if it were the glow of a vast, warm heart, 

35 that embraced all mankind in its aflEections, and had room for 

The Great Stone Face 143 

more. It was an education only to look at it. According to the 
belief of many people, the valley owed much of its fertility to 
this benign aspect that was continually beaming over it, illum- 
inating the clouds, and infusing its tenderness into the sunshine. 

5 As we began with saying, a mother and her little boy sat at 
tiieir cottage-door, gazing at the Great Stone Face, and talking 
about it. The child's name was Ernest. 

^'Mother," said he, while the Titanic visage smiled on him, 
"I wish that it could speak, for it looks so very kindly that its 

10 voice must needs be pleasant. If I were to see a man with such 
a face, I should love him dearly .'' 

^^f an old prophecy should come to pass,*^ answered his 
mother, ^Ve may see a man, some time or other, with exactly 
such a face as that." 

IS "What prophecy do you mean, dear mother?" eagerly inquired 
Ernest. "Pray tell me all about it !" 

So his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to 
her, when she herself was younger than little Ernest; a story, 
not of things that were past, but of what was yet to come; a 

20 story, nevertheless, so very, old, that even the Indians, who for- 
merly inhabited this valley, had heard it from their forefathers, 
to whom, as they affirmed, it had been murmured by the moun- 
tain streams, and whispered by the wind among the tree-tops. 
The purport was, that, at some future day, a child should be 

25 bom hereabouts, who was destined to become the greatest and 
noblest personage of his time, and whose countenance, in man- 
hood, should bear an exact resemblance to the Great Stone Face. 
Not a few old-fashioned people, and young ones likewise, in the 
ardor of their hopes, still cherished an enduring faith in this 

30 old prophecy. But others, who had seen more of the world, had 
watched and waited till they were weary, and had beheld no 
man with such a face, nor any man that proved to be much 
greater or nobler than his neighbors, concluded it to be nothing 

. but an idle tale. At all events, the great man of the prophecy 

35 had not yet appeared. 

144 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

"0 mother, dear mother!^' cried Ernest, clapping his hands 
above his head, "I do hope that I shall live to see him !" 

His mother was an affectionate and thoughtful woman, and 
felt that it was wisest not to discourage the generous hopes of 

5 her little boy. So she only said to him, "Perhaps you may/' 

And Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told him. 

It was always in his mind, whenever he looked upon the Great 

Stone Face. He spent his childhood in the log-cottage where he 

was born, and was dutiful to his mother, and helpful to her in 

10 many things, assisting her much with his little hands, and more 
with his loving heart. In this manner, from a happy yet often 
pensive child, he grew up to be a mild, quiet, unobtrusive boy, 
and sun-browned with labor in the fields, but with more inteUi- 
gence brightening his aspect than is seen in many lads who have 

15 been taught at famous schools. Yet Ernest had had no teacher, 
save only that the Great Stone Face became one to him. When 
the toil of the day was over, he would gaze at it for hours, until 
he began to imagine that those vast features recognized him, and 
gave him a smile of kindness and encouragement, responsive to 

20 his own look of veneration. We must not take upon us to 
affirm that this was a mistake, although the Face may have 
looked no more kindly at Ernest than at all the world besides. 
But the secret was that the boy's tender and confiding simplicity 
discerned what other people could not see; and thus the love, 

25 which was meant for all, became his peculiar portion. 

About this time there went a rumor throughout the valley, 
that the great man, foretold from ages long ago, who was to 
bear a resemblance to the Great Stone Face, had appeared at 
last. It seems that, many years before, a young man had 

30 migrated from the valley and settled at a distant seaport, where, 
after getting together a little money, he had set up as a shop- 
keeper. His name — but I could never learn whether it was 
his real one, or a nickname that had grown out of his habits 
and success in life — was Gathergold. Being shrewd and active, 

35 and endowed by Providence with that inscrutable faculty which 

The Great Stone Face 145 

develops itself in what the world calls luck, he became an exceed- 
ingly rich merchant, and owner of a whole fleet of bulky- 
bottomed ships. All the countries of the globe appeared to join 
hands for the mere purpose of adding heap after heap to the 

S mountainous accumulation of this one man's wealth. The cold 
regions of the north, almost within the gloom and shadow of 
the Arctic Circle, sent him their tribute in the shape of furs; 
hot Africa sifted for him the golden sands of her rivers, and 
gathered up the ivory tusks of her great elephants out of the 

10 forests ; the East came bringing him the rich shawls, and spices, 
and teas, and the effulgence of diamonds, and the gleaming 
purity of large pearls. The ocean, not to be behindhand with 
the earth, yielded up her mighty whales, that Mr. Gathergold 
might sell their oil, and make a profit on it. Be the original 

15 commodity what it might, it was gold within his grasp. It 
might be said of him, as of Midas in the fable, that whatever 
he touched with his finger immediately glistened, and grew 
yellow, and was changed at once into sterling metal, or, which 
suited him still better, into piles of coin. And, when Mr. 

20 Gathergold had become so very rich that it would have taken 
him a hundred years only to count his wealth, he bethought 
himself of his native valley, and resolved to go back thither, ' 
and end his days where he was bom. With this purpose in 
view, he sent a skilful architect to build him such a palace as 

25 should be fit for a man of his vast wealth to live in. 

As I have said above, it had already been rumored in the val- 
ley that Mr. Gathergold had turned out to be the prophetic 
personage so long and vainly looked for, and that his visage 
was the perfect and undeniable similitude of the Great Stone 

30 Face. People were the more ready to believe that this must 
needs be the fact, when they beheld the splendid edifice that 
rose, as if by enchantment, on the site of his father's old 
weather-beaten farm-house. The exterior was of marble, so 
dazzlingly white that it seemed as though the whole structure 

35 might melt away in the sunshine, like those humbler ones which 

146 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Mr. Gathergold, in his young play-days, before his fingers were 
gifted with the touch of transmutation, had been accustomed 
to build of snow. It had a richly ornamented portico, sup- 
ported by tall pillars, beneath which was a lofty door, studded 

5 with silver knobs, and made of a kind of variegated wood that 
had been brought from beyond the sea. The windows, from 
the floor to the ceiling of each stately apartment, were com- 
posed, respectively, of but one enormous pane of glass, so trans- 
parently pure that it was said to be a finer medium than even 

10 the vacant atmosphere. Hardly anybody had been permitted to 
see the interior of this palace ; but it was reported, and with good 
semblance of truth, to be far more gorgeous than the outside, 
insomuch that whatever was iron or brass in other houses was 
silver or gold in this; and Mr. Gathergold's bedchamber, espe- 

15 cially, made such a glittering appearance that no ordinary man 

would have been able to close his eyes there. But, on the other 

hand, Mr. Gathergold was now so inured to wealth, that per- 

•haps he could not have closed his eyes unless where the gleam 

of it was certain to find its way beneath his eyelids. 

20 In due time, the mansion was finished ; next came the uphol- 
sterers, with magnificent furniture ; then, a w hole troop of black 
and white servants, the harbingers of Mr. Gathergold, who, in 
his own majestic person, was expected to arrive at sunset. Our 
friend Ernest, meanwhile, had been deeply stirred by the idea 

25 that the great man, the noble man, the man of prophecy, after 
so many ages of delay, was at length to be made manifest to 
his native valley. He knew, boy as he was, that there were a 
thousand ways in which Mr. Gathergold, with his vast wealth, 
might transform himself into an angel of beneficence, and 

30 assume a control over human affairs as wide and benignant as 
the smile of the Great Stone Face. Full of faith and hope, 
Ernest doubted not that what the people said was true, and that 
now he was to behold the living likeness of those wondrous 
features on the mountain-side. While the boy was still gazing 

35 up the valley, and fancying, as he always did, that the Great 

The Great Stone Face 147 

Stone Face returned his gaze and looked kindly at him, the 

rambling of wheels was heard, approaching swiftly along the 

winding road. 

"Here he comes !'* cried a group of people who were assembled 

5 to witness the arrival. "Here comes the great- Mr. Gathergold !" 

A carriage, drawn by four horses, dashed round the turn of 

the road. Within it, thrust partly out of the window, appeared 

the physiognomy of the old man, with a skin as yellow as if his 

own Midas-hand had transmuted it. He had a low forehead, 

10 small, sharp eyes, puckered about with innumerable wrinkles, 

and very thin lips, which he made still thinner by pressing them 

forcibly together. 

"The very image of the Great Stone Face V^ shouted the peo- 
ple. "Sure enough, the old prophecy is true; and here we have 
IS the great man come, at last !" 

And, what greatly perplexed Ernest, they seemed actually to 
believe that here was the likeness which they spoke of. By the 
roadside there chanced to be an old beggar-woman and two little 
beggar-children, stragglers from some far-ofiP region, who, as 
20 the carriage rolled onward, held out their hands and lifted up 
their doleful voices, most piteously beseeching charity. A yellow 
claw — the very same that had clawed together so much wealth — 
poked itself out of the coach-window, and dropt some copper 
coins upon the ground; so that, though the great man's name 
25 seems to have been Gathergold, he might just as suitably have 
been nicknamed Scattercopper. Still, nevertheless, with an 
earnest shout, and evidently with as much good faith as ever, 
the people bellowed, — 
"He is the very image of the Great Stone Face !" 
30 But Ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled shrewdness of 
that sordid visage, and gazed up the valley, where, amid a gath- 
ering mist, gilded by the last sun beams, he could still distin- 
guish those glorious features which had impressed themselves 
into his soul. Their aspect cheered him. What did the benign 
35 lips seem to say? 

148 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

"He will come ! Fear not, Ernest ; the man will come r 
The years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy. He had 
grown to be a young man now. He attracted little notice from 
the other inhabitants of the valley ; for they saw nothing remark- 

5 able in his way of life, save that, when the labor of the day was 
over, he still loved to go apart and gaze and meditate npon the 
Great Stone Face. According to their idea of the matter, it 
was a folly, indeed, but pardonable, inasmuch as Ernest was 
industrious, kind, and neighborly, and neglected no duty for 

10 the sake of indulging this idle habit. They knew not that the 
Great Stone Face had become a teacher to him, and that the senti- 
ment which was expressed in it would enlarge the young man's 
heart, and fill it with wider and deeper sympathies than other 
hearts. They knew not that thence would come a better wisdom 

IS than could be learned from books, and a better life than could 
be moulded on the defaced example of other human lives. 
Neither did Ernest know that the thoughts and affections which 
came to him so naturally, in the fields and at the fireside, and 
wherever he communed with himself, were of a higher tone than 

20 those which all men shared with him. A simple soul, — simple 
as when his mother first taught him the old prophecy, — ^he beheld 
the marvelous features beaming adown the valley, and still 
wondered that their human counterpart was so long in making 
his appearance. 

25 By this time poor Mr. Gathergold was dead and buried; and 
the oddest part of the matter was, that his wealth, which was 
the body and spirit of his existence, had disappeared before his 
death, leaving nothing of him but a living skeleton, covered over 
witli a wrinkled, yellow skin. Since the melting away of his 

30 gold, it had been very generally conceded that there was no such 
striking resemblance, after all, betwixt the ignoble features of 
the ruined merchant and that majestic face upon the mountain- 
side. So the people ceased to honor him during his lifetime, 
and quietly consigned him to forgetfulness after his decease. 

35 Once in a while, it is true, his memory was brought up in con* 

The Great Stone Face 149 

nection with the magnificent palace which he had built, and 
which had long ago been turned into a hotel for the accommo- 
dation of strangers, multitudes of whom came, every summer, 
to visit that famous natural curiosity, the Great Stone Face. 

5 Thus, Mr. Gathergold being discredited and thrown into the 

shade, the man of prophecy was yet to come. \ 

It so happened that a native-born son of the valley, many 

years before, had enlisted as a soldier, and, after a great deal 

of hard fighting, had now become an illustrious commander. 

10 Whatever he may be called in history, he was known in camps 
and on the battle-field under the nickname of Old Blood-and- 
Thunder. This war-worn veteran, being now infirm with age 
and wounds, and weary of the turmoil of a military life, and 
of the roll of the drum and the clangor of the trumpet, that had 

15 so long been ringing in his ears, had lately signified a purpose 
of returning to his native valley, hoping to find repose where 
he remembered to have left it. The inhabitants, his old neigh- 
bors and their grown-up children, were resolved to welcome 
the renowned warrior with a salute of cannon and a public 

20 dinner; and all the m6re enthusiastically, it being affirmed that 
now, at last, the likeness of the Great Stone Face had actually 
appeared. An aid-de-camp of Old Blood-and-Thunder, travel- 
ing through the valley, was said to have been struck with the 
resemblance. Moreover the schoolmates and early acquaintances 

25 of the general were ready to testify, on oath, that, to the best 
of their recollection, the aforesaid general had been exceedingly 
like the majestic image, even when a boy, only that the idea 
had never occurred to them at that period. Great, therefore, was 
the excitement throughout the valley; and many people, who 

30 had never once thought of glancing at the Great Stone Face for 
years before, now spent their time in gazing at it, for the sake 
of knowing exactly how General Blood-and-Thunder looked. 

On the day of the great festival, Ernest, with all the other 
people of the valley, left their work, and proceeded to the spot 

35 where the sylvan banquet was prepared. As he approached, the 

150 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

loud voice of the Bev. Dr. Battleblast was heard^ beseeching a 
blessing on the good things set before them, and on the dis- 
tinguished friend of peace in whose honor they were assembled. 
The tables were arranged in a cleared space of the woods, shut 

S in by the surrounding trees, except where a vista opened east- 
ward, and afforded a distant view of the Great Stone Face. Over 
the generaFs chair, which was a relic from the home of Wash- 
ington, there was an arch of verdant boughs, with the laurel 
profusely intermixed, and siirmounted by his country's banner, 

10 beneath which he had won his victories. Our friend Ernest 
raised himself on his tiptoes, in hopes to get a glimpse of the 
celebrated guest ; but there was a mighty crowd about the tables 
anxious to hear the toasts and speeches, and to catch any word 
that might fall from the general in reply; and a volunteer com- 

15 pany, doing duty as a guard, pricked ruthlessly with their bay- 
onets at any particularly quiet person among the throng. So 
Ernest, being of an unobtrusive character, was thrust quite into 
the background, where he could see no more of Old Blood-and- 
Thunder^s physiognomy than if it had been still blazing on the 

20 battle-field. To console himself, he fumed towards the Great 
Stone Face, which, like a faithful and long-remembered friend, 
looked back and smiled upon him through the vista of the for- 
est. Meanwhile, however, he could overhear the remarks of 
various individuals, who were comparing the features of the 

25 hero with the face on the distant mountain-side. 

" 'Tis the same face, to a hair !" cried one man^ cutting a 
caper for joy. 

^TVonderfully like, that's a fact!'* responded another. 
"Like ! why, I call it Old Blood-and-Thunder himself, in a 

30 monstrous looking-glass!" cried a third. "And why not? He's 
the greatest man of this or any other age, beyond a doubf 

And tlien all three of the speakers gave a great shout, which 
communicated electricity to the crowd, and called forth a roar 
from a thousand voices, that went reverberating for miles among 

35 the mountains, until you might have snpposed that the Great 

The Great Stone Face 151 

Stone Face had poured its thunder-breath into the cry. All 
these comments^ and this vast enthusiasm^ served the more to 
interest our friend ; nor did he think of questioning that now, at 
length, the mountain-visage had found its human counterpart. 

5 It is true, Ernest had imagined that this long-looked-for per- 
sonage would appear in the character of a man of peace, uttering 
wisdom, and doing good, and making people happy. But, taking 
an habitual breadth of view, with all his simplicity, he contended 
that Providence should choose its own method of blessing man- 

10 kind, and could conceive that this great end might be effected 
even by a warrior and a bloody sword, should inscrutable wisdom 
see fit to order matters so. 

"The general ! the general I" was now the cry. "Hush 1 silence ! 
Old Blood-and-Thunder's going to make a speech.** 

IS Even so; for, the cloth being removed, the generaFs health 
had been drunk, amid shouts of applause, and he now stood 
upon his feet to thank the company. Ernest saw him. There 
he was, over the shoulders of the crowd, from the two glit- 
tering epaulets and embroidered collar upward, beneath the 

20 arch of green boughs with intertwined laurel, and the banner 
drooping as if to shade his brow ! And there, too, visible in 
the same glance, through the vista of the forest, appeared the 
Great Stone Face ! And was there, indeed, such a resemblance 
as the crowd had testified ? Alas, Ernest could not recognize it ! 

25 He beheld a war-worn and weather-beaten countenance, full of 
energy, and expressive of an iron will; but the gentle wisdom, 
the deep, broad, tender sympathies, were altogether wanting in 
Old Blood-and-Thunder's visage; and even if the Great Stone 
Face had assumed his look of stem command, the milder traits 

30 would still have tempered it. 

"This is not the man of prophecy,'* sighed Ernest to himself, 
as he made his way out of the throng. "And must the world 
wait longer yet?" 
The mists had congregated about the distant mountain-side, 

35 and there were seen the grand and awful features of the Great 

162 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Stone Face, awful but benignant, as if a mighty angel were 
sitting among the hills, and enrobing himself in a cloud-vesture 
of gold and purple. As he looked, Ernest could hardly believe 
but that a smile beamed over the whole visage, with a radiance 
5 still brightening, although without motion of the lips. It was 
probably the effect of the western sunshine, melting through 
the thinly diffused vapors that had swept between him and the 
object that he gazed at. But — ^as it always did — ^the aspect of 
his marvelous friend made Ernest as hopeful as if he had nevei 

10 hoped in vain. 

"Fear not, Ernest,'^ said his heart, even as if the Great Face 
were whispering him, — ^''fear not, Ernest ; he will come.^^ 

More years sped swiftly and tranquilly away. Ernest still 
dwelt in his native valley, and was now a man of middle age. 
' IS By imperceptible degrees, he had become known among the 
people. Now, as heretofore, he labored for his bread, and was 
the same simple-hearted man that he had always been. But 
he had thought and felt so much, he had given so many of the 
best hours of his life to unworldly hopes for some great good 

20 to mankind, that it seemed as thougli he had been talking with 
the angels, and had imbibed a portion of their wisdom unawares. 
It was visible in the calm and well-considered beneficence of his 
daily life, the quiet stream of which had made a wide green 
margin all along its course. Not a day passed by, that the world 

25 was not the better because this man, humble as he was, had 
lived. He never stepped aside from his own path, yet would 
always reach a blessing to his neighbor. Almost involuntarily, 
too, he had become a preacher. The pure and high simplicity 
of his thought, which, as one of its manifestations, took shape 

30 in the good deeds that dropped silently from his hand, flowed 
also forth in speech. He uttered truths that wrought upon and 
moulded the lives of those who heard him. His auditors, it 
may be, never suspected that Ernest, their own neighbor and 
familiar friend, was more than an ordinary man; least of all 

35 did Ernest himself suspect it ; but, inevitably as the murmur of 

The Great Stone Face 153 

a rivulet, came thoughts out of his mouth that no other human 
lips had spoken. 

When the people's minds had had a little time to cool, they 
were ready enough to acknowledge their mistake in imagining a 

S similarity between General Blood-and-Thunder's truculent 
physiognomy and the benign visage on the mountain-side. But 
now, again, there were reports and many paragraphs in the 
newspapers, affirming that the likeness of the Great Stone Face 
had appeared upon the broad shoulders of a certain eminent 

10 statesman. He, like Mr. Gathergold and Old Blood-and-Thun- 
der, was a native of the valley, but had left it in his early days, 
and taken up the trades of law and politics. Instead of the 
rich man's wealth and the warrior's sword, he had but a tongue, 
and it was mightier than both together. So wonderfully elo- 

15 quent was he, that whatever he might choose to say, his auditors 
had no choice but to believe him ; wrong looked like right, and 
right like wrong; for when it pleased him, he could make a 
kind of illuminated fog with his mere breath, and obscure the 
natural daylight with it. His tongue, indeed, was a magic 

20 instrument: sometimes it rumbled like the thunder; sometimes 
it warbled like the sweetest music. It was the blast of war, — 
the song of peace ; and it seemed to have a heart in it, when there 
was no such matter. In good truth, he was a wondrous man; 
and when his tongue had acquired him all other imaginable 

25 success, — when it had been heard in halls of state, and in the 
courts of princes and potentates, — ^after it had made him known 
all over the world, even as a voice crying from shore to shore, — 
it finally persuaded his countrymen to select him for the Presi- 
dency. Before this time, — ^indeed, as soon as he began to grow 

30 celebrated, — his admirers had found out the resemblance between 
him and the Great Stone Face; and so much were they struck 
by it, that throughout the country this distinguished gentleman 
was known by the name of Old Stony Phiz. The phrase was 
considered as giving a highly favorable aspect to his political 

35 prospects ; for, as is likewise the case with the Popedom, nobody 

164 EUon Orammar School Reader Book Four 

ever becomes President without taking a name other than his 

While his friends were doing their best to make him Presi- 
dent, Old Stony Phiz, as he was called, set out on a visit to 

5 the valley where he was born. Of course, he had no other object 
than to shake hands with his fellow-citizens, and neither thought 
nor cared about any effect which his progress through the 
country might have upon the election. Magnificent preparations 
were made to receive the illustrious statesman; a cavalcade of 

10 horsemen set forth to meet him at the boundary line of the 
State, and all the people left their business and gathered along 
the wayside to see him pass. Among these was Ernest. Though 
more than once disappointed, as we have seen^ he had such a 
hopeful and confiding nature, that he was always ready to believe 

15 in whatever seemed beautiful and good. He kept his heart con- 
tinually open, and thus was sure to catch the blessing from on 
high when it should come. So now again, as buoyantly as ever, 
he went forth to behold the likeness of the Great Stone Face. 
The cavalcade came prancing along the road, with a great 

20 clattering of hoofs and a mighty cloud of dust, which rose up 
so dense and high that the visage of the mountain-side was 
completely hidden from Ernest's eyes. All the great men of 
the neighborhood were there on horseback; militia officers, in 
uniform; the member of Congress; the sheriff of the county; 

25 the editors of newspapers ; and many a farmer, too, had mounted 
his patient steed, with his Sunday coat upon his back. It really 
was a very brilliant spectacle, especially as there were numerous 
banners flaunting over the cavalcade, on some of which were 
gorgeous portraits of the illustrious statesman and the Great 

30 Stone Face, smiling familiarly at one another, like two brothers. 
If the pictures were to be trusted, the mutual resemblance, it 
must be confessed, was marvelous. We must not forget to men- 
tion that there was a band of music, which made the echoes of 
the mountains ring and reverberate with the loud triumph of 

35 its strains; so that airy and soul-thrilling melodies broke out 

The Oreat Stone Face 155 

among all the heights and hollows, as if every nook of his native 
valley had found a voice, to welcome the distinguished guest. 
But the grandest effect was when the far-oflf mountain precipice 
flung back the music; for then the Great Stone Face itself 

5 seemed to be swelling the triumphant chorus, in acknowledgment 
that, at length, the man of prophecy was come. 

All this while the people were throwing up their hats and 
shouting with enthusiasm so contagious that the heart of Ernest 
kindled up, and he likewise threw up his hat, and shouted, as 

10 loudly as the loudest, "Huzza for the great man ! Huzza for 
Old Stony Phiz !" But as yet he had not seen him. 

"Here he is, now !" cried those who stood near Ernest. "There ! 
There ! Look at Old Stony Phiz and then at the Old Man of the 
Mountain, and see if they are not as like as two twin-brothers !'^ 

IS In the midst of all this gallant array came an open barouche, 
drawn by four white horses ; and in the barouche, with his mas- 
sive head uncovered, sat the illustrious statesman. Old Stony 
Phiz himself. 
"Confess it," said one of Emesfs neighbors to him, "the 

20 Great Stone Face has met its match at last \" 

Now, it must be owned that, at his first glimpse of the coun- 
tenance which was bowing and smiling from the barouche, 
Ernest did fancy that there was a resemblance between it and 
the old familiar face upon the mountain-side. The brow, with 

25 its massive depth and loftiness, and all the other features, indeed, 
were boldly and strongly hewn, as if in emulation of a more 
than heroic, of a Titanic model. But the sublimity and state- 
liness, the grand expression of a divine sympathy, that illumi- 
nated the mountain visage and etherealized its ponderous granite 

30 substance into spirit, might here be sought in vain. Something 
had been originally left out, or had departed. And therefore 
the marvelously gifted statesman had always a weary gloom in 
the deep caverns of his eyes, as of a child that has outgrown its 
playthings or a man of mighty faculties and little aims, whose 

156 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

life, with all its high performances, was vague and empty, 
because no high purpose had endowed it with reality. 

Still, Ernesf s neighbor was thrusting his elbow into his side, 
and pressing him for an answer. 

5 "Confess! confess! Is not he the very picture of your Old 
Man of the Mountain ?" 

"No !" said Ernest, bluntly, "I see little or no likeness.'' 
"Then so much the worse for the Great Stone Face !" answered 
his neighbor; and again he set up a shout for Old Stony Phiz. 

10 But Ernest turned away, melancholy, and almost despondent: 
for this was the saddest of his disappointments, to behold a 
man who might have fulfilled the prophecy, and had not willed 
to do so. Meantime, the cavalcade, the banners, the music, and 
the barouches swept past him, with the vociferous crowd in the 

15 rear, leaving the dust to settle down, and the Great Stone Face 
to be revealed again, with the grandeur that it had worn for 
untold centuries. 

"Lo, here I am, Ernest!'' the benign lips seemed to say. "I 
have waited longer than thou, and am not yet weary. Fear not; 

20 the man will come." 

The years hurried onward, treading in their haste on one 
another's heels. And now they began to bring white hairs, and 
scatter them over the head of Ernest; they made reverend 
wrinkles across his forehead, and furrows in his cheeks. He 

25 was an aged man. But not in vain had he grown old: more 
than the white hairs on his head were the sage thoughts in his 
mind; his wrinkles and furrows were inscriptions that Time 
had graved, and in which he had written legends of wisdom 
that had been tested by the tenor of a life. And Ernest had 

30 ceased to be obscure. Unsought for, undesired, had come the 
fame which so many seek, and made him known in the great 
world, beyond the limits of the valley in which he had dwelt 
so quietly. College professors, and even the active men of 
cities, came from far to see and converse with Ernest; for the 

35 report had gone abroad that this simple husbandman had ideas 

The Great Stone Face 157 

unlike those of other men, not gained from books, but of a 
higher tone, — a tranquil and familiar majesty, as if he had been 
talking with the angels as his daily friends. Whether it were 
sage, statesman, or philanthropist, Ernest received these vis- 

5 iters with the gentle sincerity that had characterized him from 
boyhood, and spoke freely with them of whatever came upper- 
most, or lay deepest in his heart or their own. While they talked 
together, his face would kindle, unawares, and shine upon them, 
as with a mild evening light. Pensive with the fulness of such 

10 discourse, his guests took leave and went their way ; and passing 
up the valley, paused to look at the Great Stone Face, imagin- 
ing that they had seen its likeness in a human countenance, but 
could not remember where. 
While Ernest had been growing up and growing old, a boun- 

15 tiful Providence had granted a new poet to this earth. He, 
likewise, was a native of the valley, but had spent the greater 
part of his life at a distance from that romantic region, pouring 
out his sweet music amid the bustle and din of cities. Often, 
however, did the mountains which had been familiar to him in 

20 his childhood lift their snowy peaks into the clear atmosphere of 
his poetry. Neither was the Great Stone Face forgotten, for 
the poet had celebrated it in an ode, which was grand enough 
to have been uttered by its own majestic lips. This man of 
genius, we may say, had come down from heaven with won- 

25 derful endowments. If he sang of a mountain, the eyes of all 
mankind beheld a mightier grandeur reposing on its breast, or 
soaring to its summit, than had before been seen there. If his 
theme were a lovely lake, a celestial smile had now been thrown 
over it, to gleam forever on its surface. If it were the vast old 

30 sea, even the deep immensity of its dread bosom seemed to swell 
the higher, as if moved by the emotions of the song. Thus the 
world assumed another and a better aspect from the hour that 
the poet blessed it with his happy eyes. The Creator had 
bestowed him, as the last best touch to his own handiwork. Ore- 

168 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

ation was not finished till the poet came to interpret, and so 
complete it. 

The eflfect was no less high and beautiful,* when his human 
brethren were the subject of his verse. The man or womaD, 

5 sordid with the common dust of life, who crossed his daily path, 
and the little child who played in it, were glorified if he beheld 
them in his mood of poetic faith. He showed the golden links 
of the great chain that intertwined them with an angelic kin- 
dred; he brought out the hidden traits of a celestial birth that 

10 made them worthy of such kin. Some, indeed, there were, who 
thought to show the soundness of their judgment by affirming 
that all the beauty and dignity of the natural world existed 
only in the poet's fancy. Let such men speak for themselves, 
who undoubtedly appear to have been spawned forth by Nature 

IS with a contemptuous bitterness; she having plastered them up 
out of her refuse stuff, after all the swine were made. As 
respects all things else, the poet's ideal was the truest truth. 

The songs of this poet found their way to Ernest. He read 
them after his customary toil, seated on the bench before his 

20 cottage-door, where for such a length of time he had filled his 
repose with thought, by gazing at the Great Stone Face. And 
now as he read stanzas that caused the soul to thrill within him, 
he lifted his eyes to the vast countenance beaming on him so 

25 "0 majestic friend,^' he murmured, addressing the Great 
Stone Face, "is not this man worthy to resemble thee ?" 
The Face seemed to smile, but answered not a word. 
Now it happened that the poet, though he dwelt so far away, 
had not only heard of Ernest, but had meditated much upon his 

30 character, until he deemed nothing so desirable as to meet this 
man, whose untaught wisdom walked hand in hand with the 
noble simplicity of his life. One summer morning, therefore, 
he took passage by the railroad, and, in the decline of the after- 
noon, alighted from the cars at no great distance from Ernest's 

55 cottage. The great hotel, which had formerly been the palace 

The Great Stone Face 159 

of Mr. Gathergold, was close at hand, but the poet, with his 
carpetbag on his arm, inquired at once where Ernest dwelt, and 
was resolved to be accepted as his guest. 
Approaching the door, he there found the good old man, hold- 

5 ing a volume in his hand, which alternately he read, and then, 
with a finger between the leaves, looked lovingly at the Great 
Stone Face. 

"Good evening,^* said the poet. "Can you give a traveler a 
night's lodging?" 

10 ^'Willingly," answered Ernest; and then he added, smiling, 
"Methinks I never saw the Great Stone Face look so hospitably 
at a stranger.^' 

The poet sat down on the bench beside him, and he and Ernest 
talked together. Often had the poet held intercourse with the 

IS wittiest and the wisest, but never before with a man like Ernest, 
whose thoughts and feelings gushed up with such a natural free- 
dom, and who made great truths so familiar by his simple utter- 
ance of them. Angels, as had been so often said, seemed to have 
wrought with him at his labor in the fields; angels seemed to 

20 have sat with him by the fireside ; and, dwelling with angels as 
friend with friends, he had imbibed the sublimity of their 
ideas, and imbued it with the sweet and lowly charm of house- 
hold words. So thought the poet. And Ernest, on the other 
hand, was moved and agitated by the living images which the 

25 poet flung out of his mind, and which peopled all the air about 
the cottage-door with shapes of beauty, both gay and pensive. 
The sympathies of these two men instructed them with a pro- 
founder sense than either could have attained alone. Their 
minds accorded into one strain, and made delightful music which 

30 neither of them could have claimed as all his own, nor distin- 
guished his own share from the other's. They led one another, 
as it were, into a high pavilion of their thoughts, so remote, 
and hitherto so dim, that they had never entered it before, and 
so beautiful that they desired to be there always. 

35 As Ernest listened to the poet, he imagined that the Great 

160 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Stone Face was bending forward to listen too. He gazed earn- 
estly into the poet's glowing eyes. 

"Who are you, my strangely gifted guest ?*^ he said. 

The poet laid his finger on the volume that Ernest had been 
6 reading. 

"You have read these poems," said he. "You know me, then, 
— for I wrote them." 

Again, and still more earnestly than before, Ernest examined 
the poet's features ; then turned towards the Great Stone Face ; 
10 then back, with an uncertain aspect, to his guest. But his coun- 
tenance fell; he shook his head, and sighed. 

"Wherefore are you sad ?" inquired the poet. 

"Because," replied Ernest, "all through life I have awaited 
the fulfilment of a prophecy; and, when I read these poems, I 
15 hoped that it might be fulfilled in you." 

"You hoped," answered the poet, faintly smiling, "to find 
in me the likeness of the Great Stone Face. And you are dis- 
appointed, as formerly with Mr. Gathergold, and Old Blood-and- 
Thunder, and Old Stony Phiz. Yes, Ernest, it is my doom. 
20 You must add my name to the illustrious three, and record 
another failure of your hopes. For — in shame and sadness do I 
speak it, Ernest — ^I am not worthy to be typified by yonder 
benign and majestic image." 

"And why?" asked Ernest. He pointed to the volume. ^^Are 
25 not those thoughts divine?" 

"They have a strain of the Divinity," replied the poet. ^^You 
can hear in them the far-oflE echo of a heavenly song. But my 
life, dear Ernest, has not corresponded with my thought. I 
have had grand dreams, but they have been only dreams, because 
30 I have lived — ^and that, too, by my own choice — among poor 
and mean realities. Sometimes even — shall I dare to say it ? — 
I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the goodness, 
which my own works are said to have made more evident in 
nature and in human life. Why, then, pure seeker of the good 

The Great Stone Face 161 

and true, shouldst thou hope to find me, in yonder image of 
the divine?'' 

The poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with tears. So, 
likewise, were those of Ernest. 
5 At the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent custom, 
Ernest was to discourse to an assemblage of the neighboring 
inhabitants in the open air. He and the poet, arm in arm, still 
talking together as they went along, proceeded to the spot. It 
was a small nook among the hills, with a gray precipice behind, 

10 the stem front of which was relieved by the pleasant foliage of 
many creeping plants that made a tapestry for the naked rock, 
by hanging their festoons from all its rugged angles. At a 
small elevation above the ground, set in a rich framework of 
verdure, there appeared a niche, spacious enough to admit a 

15 human figure, with freedom for such gestures as spontaneously 
accompany earnest thought and genuine emotion. Into this 
natural pulpit Ernest ascended, and threw a look of familiar 
kindness around upon his audience. They stood, or sat, or 
reclined upon the grass, as seemed good to each, with the depart- 

20 ing sunshine falling obliquely over them, and mingling its sub- 
dued cheerfulness with the solemnity of a grove of ancient trees, 
beneath and amid the boughs of which the golden rays were con- 
strained to pass. In another direction was seen the Great Stone 
Face, with the same cheer, combined with the same solemnity, 

25 in its benignant aspect. 

Ernest began to speak, giving to the people of what was in 
his heart and mind. His words had power, because they 
accorded with his thoughts; and his thoughts had reality and 
depth, because they harmonized with the life which he had always 

30 lived. It was not mere breath that this preacher uttered; they 
were the words of life, because a life of good deeds and holy love 
was melted into them. Pearls, pure and rich, had been dis- 
solved into this precious draught. The poet, as he listened, felt 
that the being and character of Ernest were a nobler strain of 

3S poetry than he had ever written. His eyes glistening with tears. 


Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

he gazed reverentially at the venerable man, and said within 
himself that never was there an aspect so worthy of a prophet 
and a sage as that mild, sweet, thoughtful countenance, with the 
glory of white hair diffused about it. At a distance, but dis- 

5 tinctly to be seen, high up in the golden light of the setting sun, 
appeared the Great Stone Face, with hoary niists around it, 
like the white hairs around the brow of Ernest. Its look of 
grand beneficence seemed to embrace the world. 

At that moment, in sympathy with a thought which lie was 

10 about to utter, the face of Ernest assumed a grandeur of expres- 
sion, so imbued with benevolence, that the poet, by an irresisti- 
ble impulse, threw his arms aloft, and shouted, — 

"Behold! Behold! Ernest is himself the likeness of the 
Great Stone Face!" 

15 Then all the people looked, and saw that what the deep- 
sighted poet said was true. The prophecy was fulfilled. But 
Ernest, having finished what he had to say, took the poet's 
arm, and walked slowly homeward, still hoping that some wiser 
and better man than himself would by and by appear, bearing a 

20 resemblance to the Great Stone Face. 

Notes and Questions 

What part of the description of 
the Great Stone Face do you like 
the bestf 

What influence had this Face upon 
the valley? Upon the clouds! 
Upon the sunshine? 

Show how each of the four char- 
acters failed to realize the ideal. 

What purpose do you think Haw- 
thorne had in creating these 

Why did so many people think that 
each of these men was the image 
of the Great Stone Face? 

Why did not Ernest think so? 

What were the characteristics of 
the ideal? What words name 

What does the Great Stone Face 
symbolize ? 

What words tell you the source of 
Ernest's power? 

What lines tell you of his hnmilityf 

My Visit to Niagara 163 

Summarize his characteristics. 
What pictures do you find in the 

selection f 
Point out sentences that contain 

examples of alliteration. 
Find a humorous sentence. 
Who were the Titans f 
Who was Midas? 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 
'infusing its tenderness into the ''the mountain visage had found 

sunshine'' its human counterpart" 

'transform himself into an angel "a kind of illuminated fog" 

of beneficence" " the prophecy was fulfilled " 



Never did a. pilgrim approach Niagara with deeper enthusiasm 
than mine. I had lingered away from it, and wandered to other 
scenes, because my treasury of anticipated enjoyments, comprising 
all the veonders of the world, had nothing else so magnificent, and I 

5 was loath to exchange the pleasures of hope for those of memory so 
soon. At length the day came. The stage-coach, with a French- 
man and myself on the back seat, had already left Lewiston, and in 
less than an hour would set us down in Manchester. I began to 
listen for the roar of the cataract, and trembled with a sensation 

) like dread, as the moment drew nigh, when its voice of ages must 
roll, for the first time, on my ear. The French gentleman stretched 
himself from the window, and expressed loud admiration, while, by 
a sudden impulse, I threw myself back and closed my eyes. When 
the scene shut in^ I was glad to think, that for me the whole burst 

5 of Niagara was yet in futurity. We rolled on, and entered the 
village of Manchester, bordering on the falls. 

I am quite ashamed of myself here. Not that I ran like a 
madman to the falls, and plunged into the thickest of the spray, — 
never stopping to breathe, till breathing was impossible; not that 

164 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

I committed this, or any other suitable extravagance. On the con- 
trary, I alighted with perfect decency and composure, gave 1113' 
cloak to the black waiter, pointed out my baggage, and inquired, not 
the nearest way to the cataract, but about the dinner-hour. The 
5 interval was spent in arranging my dress. Within the last fifteen 
minutes, my mind had grown strangely benumbed, and my spirits 
apathetic, with a slight depression, not decided enough to be termed 
sadness. My enthusiasm was in a deathlike slumber. Without 
aspiring to inmiortality, as he did, I could have imitated that Eng- 

10 lish traveller, who turned back from the point where he first heard 
the thunder of Niagara, after crossing the ocean to behold it. Many 
a Western trader, by the by, has performed a similar act of heroism 
with more heroic simplicity, deeming it no such wonderful feat 
to dine at the hotel and resume his route to Buffalo or Lewiston, 

15 while the cataract was roaring unseen. 

Such has often been my apathy, when objects, long sought, and 
earnestly desired, were placed within my reach. After dinner — at 
which an unwonted and perverse epicurism detained me longer than 
usual — I lighted a cigar and paced the piazza, minutely attentive 

20 to the aspect and business of a very ordinary village. Finally, with 
reluctant step, and the feeling of an intruder, I walked towards 
Goat Island. At the toll-house, there were farther excuses for 
delaying the inevitable moment. My signature was required in a 
huge ledger, containing similar records innumerable, many of which 

25 I read. The skin of a great sturgeon, and other fishes, beasts, and 
reptiles; a collection of minerals, such as lie in heaps near the 
falls; some Indian moccasins, and other trifles, made of deer-skin 
and embroidered with beads; several newspapers, from Montreal, 
New York, and Boston, — all attracted me in turn. Out of a num- 

30 ber of twisted sticks, the manufacture of a Tuscarora Indian, I 
selected one of curled maple, curiously convoluted, and adorned 
with the carved images of a snake and a fish. Using this as mv 
pilgrim's staff, I crossed the bridge. Above and below me were the 
rapids, a river of impetuous snow, with here and there a dark rock 

35 amid its whiteness, resisting all the physical fury, as any cold spirit 

My Visit to Niagara 165 

did the moral influences of the scene. On reaching Goat Island, 
which separates the two great segments of the falls, I chose the 
right-hand path, and followed it to the edge of the American cas- 
cade. There, while the falling sheet was yet invisible, I saw the 

5 vapor that never vanishes, and the Eternal Rainbow of Niagara. 

It was an afternoon of glorious sunshine, without a cloud, save 

those of the cataracts. I gained an insulated rock, and beheld a 

broad sheet of brilliant and unbroken foam, not shooting in a 

curved line from the top of the precipice, but falling headlong 

10 down from height to depth. A narrow stream diverged from the 
main branch, and hurried over the crag by a channel of its own, 
leaving a little pine-clad island and a streak of precipice between 
itself and the larger sheet. Below arose the mist, on which was 
painted a dazzling sunbow with two concentric shadows, — one, 

IS ahnost as perfect as the original brightness; and the other, drawn 
faintly round the broken edge of the cloud. 

StiU I had not half seen Niagara. Following the verge of the 
island, the path led me to the Horseshoe, where the real, broad St. 
Lawrence, rushing along on a level with its banks, pours its whole 

20 breadth over a concave line of precipice, and thence pursues its 
course between lofty crags towards Ontario. A sort of bridge, two 
or three feet wide, stretches out along the edge of the descending 
sheet, and hangs upon the rising mist, as if that were the founda- 
tion of the frail structure. Here I stationed myself in the blast 

B of wind, which the rushing river bore along with it. The bridge 
was tremulous beneath me, and marked the tremor of the solid 
earth. I looked along the whitening rapids, and endeavored to 
distinguish a mass of water far above the falls, to follow it to their 
verge, and go down with it, in fancy, to the abyss of clouds and 

JO storm. Casting my eyes across the river, and every side, I took in 
the whole scene at a glance, and tried to comprehend it in one vast 
idea. After an hour thus spent, I left the bridge, and by a stair- 
case, winding almost interminably round a post, descended to the 
base of the precipice. From that point, my path lay over slippery 

35 stones, and among great fragments of the cliff, to the edge of the 

166 Elmm Ormmmmr SdMl E^mder Book Pour 

cataract, where the w-.i ai o^ cmdoped me in spray, and per- 
hap. dashed the r^zz-rim rv=xl me. Were mr long desires ful- 

fiDed^ And had I §ee« X^a^ia? 

Oh that I had nerer beard ofXiagaim toil beheld it! Blessed 

5 were the wanderers of old, wiui heard its deep roar, sounding 
thiondi the woods, aa the smDmons to an nnknown wonder, and 
approached its awful brink, in aU the freshness of native f eeUng. 
Had its own mrsterioos Toice been the first to warn me of its 
existence, then, indeed, I might hare knelt down and worshipped. 
10 Bnt I had come thither, haunted with a vision of foam and fury, 
and dizzy clifEs, and an ocean tumbling down out of the sky, — ^a 
scene, in short, which nature had too much good taste and calm 
simplicity to realize. My mind had struggled to adapt these false 
conceptions to the reality, and finding the effort vain, a wretched 
15 sense of disappointment weighed me down. I climbed the precipice, 
and threw myself on the earth, feeling that I was unworthy to 
look at the Great Falls, and careless about beholding them again. 
All that night, as there has been and will be for ages past and 
to come, a rushing sound was heard, as if a great tempest were 
20 sweeping through the air. It mingled with my dreams, and made 
them full of storm and whirlwind. Whenever I awoke, and heard 
this dread sound in the air, and the windows rattling as with a 
mighty blast, I could not rest again, till looking forth, I saw how 
bright the stars were, and that every leaf in the garden was 
25 motionless. Never was a summer night more calm to the eye, nor 
a gale of autumn louder to the ear. The rushing sound proceeds 
from the rapids, and the rattling of the casements is but an effect 
of the vibration of the whole house, shaken by the jar of the 
cataract. The noise of the rapids draws the attention from the 
30 true voice of Niagara, which is a dull, muffled thunder, resound- 
ing between the cliffs. I spent a wakeful hour at midnight, in 
distinguishing its reverberations, and rejoiced to find that my 
former awe and enthusiasm were reviving. 

Gradually, and after much contemplation, I came to know, bv 
35 my own feelings, that Niagara is indeed a wonder of the world, 

My Visit to Niagara 167 

and not the less wonderful, because time and thought must be 
employed in comprehending it. Casting aside all preconceived 
notions, and preparation to be dire-struck or delighted, the beholder 
must stand beside it in the simplicity of his heart, suffering the 

5 mighty scene to work its own impression. Night after night, I 
dreamed of it, and was gladdened every morning by the conscious- 
ness of a growing capacity to enjoy it. Yet I will not pretend to 
the all-absorbing enthusiasm of some more fortunate spectators, 
nor deny that very trifling causes would draw my eyes and thoughts 

from the cataract. 

The last day that I was to spend at Niagara, before my de- 
parture for the Far West, I sat upon the Table Rock. This cele- 
brated station did not now, as of old, project fifty feet beyond the 
line of the precipice, but was shattered by the fall of an immense 

5 fragment, which lay distant on the shore below. Still, on the 
utmost verge of the rock, with my feet hanging over it, I felt as 
if suspended in the open air. Never before had my mind been in 
such perfect unison with the scene. There were intervals, when I 
was conscious of nothing but the great river, rolling calmly into 

) the abyss, rather descending than precipitating itself, and acquiring 
tenfold majesty from its unhurried motion. It came like the march 
of Destiny. It was not taken by surprise, but seemed to have antici- 
pated, in all its course through the broad lakes, that it must pour 
their collected waters down this height. The perfect foam of the 

> river, after its descent, and the ever-varying shapes of mist, rising 
up, to become clouds in the sky, would be the very picture of con- 
fusion, were it merely transient, like the rage of a tempest. But 
when the beholder has stood awhile, and perceives no lull in the 
storm, and considers that the vapor and the foam are as everlast- 

> ing as the rocks which produce them, all this turmoil assumes a 
sort of calmness. It soothes, while it awes the mind. 

Leaning over the cliff, I saw the guide conducting two adven- 
turers behind the falls. It was pleasant, from that high seat in 
the sunshine, to observe them struggling against the eternal storm 
5 of the lower regions, with heads bent down, now faltering, now 

168 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

pressing forward, and finally swallowed np in their victory. After 
their disappearance, a blast rushed out with an old hat, which it 
had swept from one of their heads. The rock, to which they were 
directing their unseen course, is marked, at a fearful distance on 
5 the exterior of the sheet, by a jet of foam. The attempt to reach 
it appears both poetical and perilous to a looker-on, but may be 
accomplished without much more diflBculty or hazard than in 
stemming a violent northeaster. In a few moments, forth came 
the children of the mist. Dripping and breathless, they crept 

10 along the base of the cliff, ascended to the guide's cottage, and 
received, I presume, a certificate of their achievement, with three 
verses of sublime poetry on the back. 

My contemplations were often interrupted by strangers who 
came down from Forsyth's to take their first view of the falls. 

15 A short, ruddy, middle-aged gentleman, fresh from Old England, 
peeped over the rock, and evinced his approbation by a broad grin. 
His spouse, a very robust lady, afforded a sweet example of ma- 
ternal solicitude, being so intent on the safety of her little boy that 
she did not even glance at Niagara. As for the child, he gave him- 

20 self wholly to the enjoyment of a stick of candy. Another traveller, 
a native American, and no rare character among us, produced a 
volume of Captain Hall's tour, and labored earnestly to adjust 
Niagara to the captain's description, departing, at last, without one 
new idea or sensation of his own. The next comer was provided, 

25 not with a printed book, but with a blank sheet of foolscap, from 
top to bottom of which, by means of an ever-pointed pencil, the 
cataract was made to thunder. In a little talk which we had 
together, he awarded his approbation to the general view, but cen- 
sured the position of Goat Island, observing that it should have 

30 been thrown farther to the right, so as to widen the American 
falls, and contract those of the Horseshoe. Next appeared two 
traders of Michigan, who declared, that, upon the whole, the sight 
was worth looking at ; there certainly was an immense water-power 
here ; but that, after all, they would go twice as far to see the noble 

35 stone-works of Lockport, where the Grand Canal is locked down a 

My Visit to Niagara 169 

descent of sixty feet. They were succeeded by a young fellow, in 
a homespun cotton dress, with a staff in his hand, and a pack over 
his shoulders. He advanced close to the edge of the rock, where 
his attention, at first wavering among the different components 

5 of the scene, finally became fixed in the angle of the Horseshoe 
falls, which is, indeed the central point of interest. His whole 
soul seemed to go forth and be transported thither, till the staff 
slipped from his relaxed grasp, and falling down— down — down— 
strack upon the fragment of the Table Bock. 

10 In this manner I spent some hours, watching the varied im- 
pression, made by the cataract, on those who disturbed me, and 
returning to unwearied contemplation, when left alona At length 
my time came to depart. There is a grassy footpath Uirough the 
woods, along the summit of the bank, to a point whence a cause- 

15 way, hewn in the side of the precipice, goes winding down to the 
Ferry, about half a mile below the Table Bock. The sun was near 
setting, when I emerged from the shadow of the trees, and began 
the descent. The indirectness of my downward road continually 
changed the point of view, and showed me, in rich and repeated 

20 succession, now, the whitening rapids and majestic leap of the 
main river, which appeared more deeply massive as the light de- 
parted ; now, the lovelier picture, yet still sublime, of Goat Island, 
with its rocks and grove, and the lesser falls, tumbling over the 
right bank of the St. Lawrence, like a tributary stream ; now, the 

25 long vista of the river, as it eddied and whirled between the cliffs, 
to pass through Ontario toward the sea, and everywhere to be won- 
dered at, for this one unrivalled scene. The golden sunshine tinged 
the sheet of the American cascade, and painted on its heaving 
spray the broken semi-circle of a rainbow, heaven's own beauty 

30 crowning earth's sublimity. My steps were slow, and I paused 
long at every turn of the descent, as one lingers and pauses who 
discerns a brighter and brightening excellence in what he must 
soon behold no more. The solitude of the old wilderness now 
reigned over the whole vicinity of the falls. My enjoyment be- 

35 came the more rapturous, because no poet shared it, nor wretch 


Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

devoid of poetry profaned it; but tjie spot so famous through the 
world was all my own ! 

Notes and Questions 

Why was Hawthorne's first im- 
pression of Niagara a disap- 
pointment f 

How did Hawthorne come to know 
that Niagara is a wonder of the 

What feelings did Niagara pro- 
duce in Hawthorne f 
What effect on the reader did 
Hawthorne seek in this story f 

What does Hawthorne say is nec- 
essary in order to appreciate na- 

What relation has Niagara to the 
geography of the country, its 
animal and vegetable life, its 

trade and industry! 

What is the effect on one's feel- 
ings when he ''considers that 
the vapor and the foam are as 
everlasting as the rocks ^vhich 
produce them"! 

Niagara grew on Hawthorne. Jus- 
tify this. 

Note the comments of other ob- 
servers based " upon their inter- 
pretation of Niagara. 

Do you think one who sees nothing 
in Niagara except a mass of 
rock and water, vapor and sun- 
shine, could appreciate its beau- 
ty, grandeur, and sublimity T 

* * insulated * ' 
"abyss of clouds'* 
"eddied and whirled" 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

* * epicurism " " convoluted ' ' 

"voice of ages" 
"mysterious voice" 
"unrivaled scene" 

"Eternal Rainbow" 
"majestic leap" 


So irregular was the life of Edgar Allan Poe and so strong 
were the prejudices of his critics that not only his character and 
habits of life, but even the simplest facts of his biography, are 
suri'ounded with mystery and are subjects of doubt and dispute. 

By everything, but the accident of birth, Poe belongs to the 
South. His father was from Baltimore and his mother was of 
English birth. They were both members of a theatrical com- 
pany playing in Boston at the time of Poe's birth, January 19, 

Edgar Allan Poe 171 

1809. At the age of three he was left an orphan by the death 
of his mother. A wealthy Scotchman of Virginia, Mr. John 
Allan, adopted him and brought him up in luxury — a much 
spoiled child, everywhere petted for his beauty and precocity. 

He was sent to school in a suburb of London and upon his 
return to Anierica entered the University of Virginia, a proud, 
reserved, and self-willed youth. Here he led an irregular life, 
so that Mr. Allan was forced to withdraw him from school and 
gave him work in his ofiBce. The routine of ofiBce work was very 
distasteful to Poe and he ran away to Boston, where he published 
his first volume of poems. Here he enlisted in the army, but 
when Mr. Allan heard of his whereabouts he secured his discharge 
and obtained an appointment for him, as a cadet, at West Point. 
The severe discipline of that school proved irksome to his restless 
nature and after a few months he brought upon himself his dis- 
missal. At the age of twenty-two he found himself adrift with 
nothing further to expect from Mr. Allan. 

Literature presented itself as his most natural vocation. He 
had written poetry from the pure love of it, but now actual poverty 
drove him to the more remunerative prose writing. He engaged 
in journalistic work in Baltimore, living with his aunt, Mrs. 
Clemm, and her daughter, Virginia. Two years later he married 
Virginia Clemm, a mere child ; but Poe, whose reverence for women 
was his noblest trait, loved her and cared for her through poverty 
and ill-health, until her death eleven years later, a short time 
before his own. His life was a melancholy one, a fierce struggle 
and final defeat. In 1849, on his way to "New York from Rich- 
mond, chance brought him and election day together in the city 
of Baltimore. He was. found in an election booth, delirious, 
and died a few days later. 

Poe was a keen critic of the literary men of his day, but he 
applied the same standards to himself. He was constantly 
re-writing and polishing what he had written. Poe's greatness 
lay in his imaginative work — ^his tales and his poems. The tales 
may be said to constitute a distinct addition to the world^s litera- 

172 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

ture. From time immemorial, there have been tales in prose and 
in verse, tales legendary, romantic, and humorons, but never any 
quite like Poe's. 

The appeal of his poetry is to the sentiment of beauty — the 
one appeal, which according to his theory is the final justification 
of any poem. Language is made to yield its utmost of melody. 
"The Eaven'' was first published in January, 1845, and imme- 
diately became and remains one of the most widely known of 
English poems. It can be mentioned anywhere, without apology 
or explanation and there is scarcely a lover of melodious verse who 
cannot repeat many of its lines and stanzas. 

Every reader of Poe^s prose will be impressed with the charm 
of the language itself, the fascination of the vivid scenes and the 
magic touch like the Necromancer's wand, which removes these 
scenes into the uncharted realm of the supernatural and iuveste 
them with a kind of sacred awe. 



We had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag. For some 
minutes the old man seemed too much exhausted to speak. 

'^Not long ago,'' said he at length, ^'and I could have guided 
you on this route as well as the youngest of my sons; but, ahout 
5 three years past, there happened to me an event such as never hap- 
pened before to mortal man — or at least such as no man ever sur- 
vived to tell of — and the six hours of deadly terror which I then 
endured have broken me up body and soul. You suppose me a 
very old man — ^but I am not. It took less than a single day to 
10 change these hairs from a jetty black to white, to weaken my limbs^ 
and to imstring my nerves, so that I tremble at the least exertion^ 
and am frightened at a shadow. Do you know I can scarcely look 
over this little cliflE without getting giddy P' 

The "little cliflE,'' upon whose edge he had so carelessly thrown 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 173 

himself down to rest that the weightier portion of his hody hung 
over it, while he was only kept from falling by the tenure of his 
elbow on its extreme and slippery edge — this "little cliflP* arose, a 
sheer unobstructed precipice of black shining rock, some fifteen or 
5 sixteen hundred feet from the world of crags beneath us. Nothing 
would have tempted me to within half a dozen yards of its brink. 
In truth so deeply was I excited by the perilous position of my com- 
panion, that I fell at full length upon the ground, clung to the 
shrubs around me, and dared not even glance upward at the sky — 

10 while I struggled in vain to divest myself of the idea that the very 
foundations of the mountain were in danger from the fury of the 
winds. It was long before I could reason myself into suflBcient 
courage to sit up and look out into the distance. 

"You must get over these fancies,^^ said the guide, ''for I have 

IS brought you here that you might have the best possible view of the 
scene of that event I mentioned — ^and to tell you the whole story 
with the spot just under your eye. 

^'We are now," he continued, in that particularizing manner 
which distinguished him — "we are now close upon the Norwegian 

20 coast — in the sixty-eighth degree of latitude — in the great province 
of Nordland — and in the dreary district of Lofoden. The moim- 
tain upon whose top we sit is Helseggen, the Cloudy. Now raise 
yourself up a little higher — hold on to the grass if you feel giddy — 
so — ^and look out, beyond the belt of vapor beneath us, into the sea." 

25 I looked dizzily, and beheld a wide expanse of ocean, whose 
waters wore so inky a hue as to bring at once to my mind the 
Nubian geographer's account of the Mare Tenehrarum, A pano- 
rama more deplorably desolate no human imagination can conceive. 
To the right and left, as far as the eye could reach, there lay out- 

30 stretched, like ramparts of the world, lines of horridly black and 
beetling cliff, whose character of gloom was but the more forcibly 
illustrated by the surf which reared high up against it its white 
and ghastly crest, howling and shrieking forever. Just opposite 
the promontory upon whose apex we were placed, and at a distance 

35 of some five or six miles out at sea, there was visible a small. 

1?4 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

bleak-looking island; or, more properly, its position was dis- 
cernible through the wilderness of surge in which it was envel- 
oped. About two miles nearer the land arose another of smallei 
size, hideously craggy and barren, and encompassed at various 
5 intervals by a cluster of dark rocks. 

The appearance of the ocean, in the space between the more 
distant island and the shore, had something very unusual about 
it. Although, at the time, so strong a gale was blowing land- 
ward that a brig in the remote oflSng lay to under a double-reefed 

10 trysail, and constantly plunged her whole hull out of sight, still 
there was here nothing like a regular swell, but only a short, 
quick, angry cross-dashing of water in every direction — ^as well 
in the teeth of the wind as otherwise. Of foam there was little 
except in the immediate vicinity of the rocks. 

15 'The island in the distance,*' resumed the old man, "is called 
by the Norwegians Vurrgh. The one midway is Moskoe. That 
a mile to the northward is Ambaaren. Yonder are Iflesen, Hoey- 
holm, Kieldholm, Suarven, and Buckholm. Farther off — ^between 
Moskoe and Vurrgh — are Otterholm, Flimen, Sandflesen, and Skar- 

20 holm. These are the true names of the places — ^but why it has 
been thought necessary to name them at all is more than either 
you or I can understand. Do you hear anjrthing? Do you see any 
change in the water ?'* 

We had now been about ten minutes upon the top of Helseggen, 

25 to which we had ascended from the interior of Lofoden, so that we 
had caught no glimpse of the sea until it had burst upon us from 
the summit. As the old man spoke, I became aware of a loud and 
gradually increasing sound, like the moaning of a vast herd of buf- 
faloes upon an American prairie; and at the same moment I per- 

30 ceived that what seamen term the chopping character of the ocean 
beneath us, was rapidly changing into a current which set to the 
eastward. Even while I gazed, this current acquired a monstrous 
velocity. Each moment added to its speed — ^to its headlong im- 
petuosity. In five minutes the whole sea, as far as Vurrgh, was 

35 lashed into ungovernable fury ; but it was between Moskoe and the 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 175 

coast that the main uproar held its sway. Here the vast bed of the 
waters, seamed and scarred into a thousand conflicting channels, 
burst suddenly into frenzied convulsion — heaving, boiling, hissing — 
gyrating in gigantic and innumerable vortices, and all whirling and 

5 plunging on to the eastward with a rapidity which water never 
elsewhere assumes, except in precipitous descents. 

In a few minutes more there came over the scene another radical 
alteration. The general surface grew somewhat more smooth, and 
the whirlpools, one by one, disappeared, while prodigious streaks of 

10 foam became apparent where none had been seen before. These 
streaks, at length, spreading out to a great distance, and entering 
into combination, took unto themselves the g3n'atory motion of the 
subsided vortices, and seemed to form the germ of another more 
vast Suddenly — very suddenly — ^this assumed a distinct and defi- 

15 nite existence, in a circle of more than a mile in diameter. The edge 
of the whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray; 
but no particle of this slipped into the mouth of the terrific funnel, 
whose interior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a smooth, 
shining and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an 

20 angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round 
with a swaying and sweltering inotion, and sending forth to the 
winds an appalling voice, half shriek, half roar, such as not even 
the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to 

S The mountain trembled to its very base, and the rock rocked. I 
threw myself upon my face, and clung to the scant herbage in an 
excess of nervous agitation. 

'This,^^ said I at length, to the old man — ^'this can be nothing 
else than the great whirlpool of the Maelstrom.^' 

!• ''So it is sometimes termed,'* said he. '^e Norwegians call it 
the Moskoe-strom, from the island of Moskoe in the midway .*' 

The ordinary accounts of this vortex had by no means prepared 
me for what I saw. That of Jonas Ramus, which is perhaps the 
most circumstantial of any, cannot impart the faintest conception 

IS either of the magnificence or of the horror of the scene — or of the 

176 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

wild bewildering sense of the novel which confounds the beholder. 
I am not sure from what point of view the writer in question sur- 
veyed it, nor at what time; but it could neither have been from the 
summit of Helseggen, nor during a storm. There are some pas- 

5 sages of his description, nevertheless, which may be quoted for their 
details, although their effect is exceedingly feeble in conveying an 
impression of the spectacle. 

"Between Lofoden and Moskoe,'^ he says, ''the depth of the 
water is between thirty-six and forty fathoms ; but on the other side, 

10 toward Ver (Vurrgh) this depth decreases so as not to afford a 
convenient passage for a vessel, without the risk of splitting on the 
rocks, which happens even in the calmest weather. When it is 
flood, the stream runs up the country between Lofoden and Moskoe 
with a boisterous rapidity; but the roar of its impetuous ebb to the 

15 sea is scarce equaled by the loudest and most dreadful cataracts, 
the noise being heard several leagues off; and the vortices or pits 
are of such an extent and depth that if a ship comes within its at- 
traction it is inevitably absorbed and carried down to the bottom, 
and there beat to pieces against the rocks ; and when the water re- 

20 laxes, the fragments thereof are thrown up again. But these inter- 
vals of tranquillity are only at the turn of the ebb and flood, and 
in calm weather, and last but a quarter of an hour, its violence 
gradually returning. When the stream is most boisterous, and its 
fury heightened by a storm, it is dangerous to come within a Nor- 

25 way mile of it. Boats, yachts, and ships have been carried away by 
not guarding against it before they were within its reach. It like- 
wise happens frequently that whales come too near the stream, and 
are overpowered by its violence ; and then it is impossible to describe 
their howling and bellowings in their fruitless struggles to disen- 

30 gage themselves. A bear once, attempting to swim from Lofoden 
to Moskoe, was caught by the stream and borne down, while he 
roared terribly, so as to be heard on shore. Large stocks of firs and 
pine trees, after being absorbed by the current, rise again broken 
and torn to such a degree as if bristles grew upon them. This 

35 plainly shows the bottom to consist of craggy rocks, among which 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom IT*? 

they are whirled to and fro. This stream is regulated by the flux 
and reflux of the sea — it being constantly high and low water every 
six hours. In the year 1645, early in the morning of Sexagesima 
Sunday, it raged with such noise and impetuosity that the very 

5 stones of the houses on the coast fell to the ground.^^ 

In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see how this 
could have been ascertained at all in the immediate vicinity of the 
vortex. The "forty fathoms" must have reference only to portions 
of the channel close upon the shore either of Moskoe or Lofoden. 

10 The depth in the center of the Moskoe-strom must be immeasurably 
greater; and no better proof of this fact is necessary than can be 
obtained from even the sidelong glance into the abyss of the whirl 
which may be had from the highest crag of Helseggen. Looking 
down from this pinnacle upon the howling Phlegethon below, I 

IS could not help smiling at the simplicity with which the honest 
Jonas Bamus records, as a matter difficult of belief, the anecdotes 
of the whales and the bears ; for it appeared to me, in fact, a self- 
evident thing that the largest ships of the line in existence, coming 
within the influence of that deadly attraction, could resist it as little 

20 as a feather the hurricane, and must disappear bodily and at once. 

The attempts to account for the phenomenon — some of which, 

I remember, seemed to me sufficiently plausible in perusal — now 

wore a very different and unsatisfactory aspect^ The idea generally 

received is that this, as well as three smaller vortices among the 

S Peroe Islands, "have no other cause than the collision of waves 
rising and falling, at flux and reflux, against a ridge of rocks and 
shelves, which confines the water so that it precipitates itself like 
a cataract ; and thus the higher the flood rises, the deeper must the 
fall be, and the natural result of all is a whirlpool or vortex, the 

^ prodigious suction of which is sufficiently known by lesser experi- 
ments." — These are the words of the "EncyclopsBdia Brittanica.'* 
Kircher and others imagine that in the center of the channel of the 
Maelstrom is an abyss penetrating the globe, and issuing in some 
very remote part — the Gulf of Bothnia being somewhat decidedly 

i5 named in one instance. This opinion, idle in itself, was the one to 

178 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

which, as I gazed, my imagination most readily assented ; and, men- 
tioning it to the guide, I was rather surprised to hear him say that, 
although it was the view almost universally entertained of the sub- 
ject by the Norwegians, it nevertheless was not his own. As to the 
S former notion he confessed his inability to comprehend it ; and here 
I agreed with him — for, however conclusive on paper, it becomes 
altogether unintelligible, and even absurd, amid the thunder of the 

"You have had a good look at the whirl now,^^ said the old man, 

10 "and if you will creep round this crag, so as to get in its lee, and 
deaden the roar of the water, I will tell you a story that will con- 
vince you I ought to know something of the Moskoe-strom.'' 
I placed myself as desired, and he proceeded. 
"Myself and my two brothers once owned a schooner-rigged 

15 smack of about seventy tons burden, with which we were in the 
habit of fishing among the islands beyond Moskoe, nearly to 
Vurrgh. In all violent eddies at sea there is good fishing, at proper 
opportunities, if one has only the courage to attempt it ; but among 
the whole of the Lof oden coastmen we three were the only ones who 

20 made a regular business of going out to the islands, as I tell you. 
The usual grounds are a great way lower down to the southward. 
There fish can be got at all hours, without much risk, and there- 
fore these places are'preferred. The choice spots over here among 
the rocks, however, not only yield the finest variety, but in far 

25 greater abundance; so that we often got in a single day what tfie 
more timid of the craft could not scrape tpgether in a week. In 
fact, we made it a matter of desperate speculation — the risk of life 
standing instead of labor, and courage answering for capital. 

^TVe kept the smack in a cove about five miles higher up the 

30 coast than this; and it was our practice, in fine weather, to take 
advantage of the fifteen minutes^ slack to push across the main 
channel of the Moskoe-strom, far above the pool, and then drop 
down upon anchorage somewhere near Otterholm, or Sandflesen, 
where the eddies are not so violent as elsewhere. Here we used to 

35 remain until nearly time for slack water again, when we weighed 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 179 

and made for home. We never set out upon this expedition with- 
out a steady side wind' for going and coming— one that we felt sure 
would not fail us before our return — and we seldom made a mis- 
calculation upon this point. Twice, during six years, we were 

5 forced to stay all night at anchor on account of a dead calm, which 
is a rare thing indeed just about here ; and once we had to remain on 
the grounds nearly a week^ starving to death, owing to a gale which 
blew up shortly after our arrival, and made the channel too boister- 
ous to be thought of. Upon this occasion we should have been 

10 driven out to sea in spite of everything (for the whirlpools threw 
us round and round so violently that, at length, we fouled our 
anchor and dragged it) if it had not been that we drifted into one 
of the innumerable cross currents — ^here to-day and gone to-morrow 
—which drove us under the lee of Flimen, where, by good luck, we 

K brought up. 

"I could not tell you the twentieth part of the difficulties we 
encountered ^on the ground^ — it is a bad spot to be in, even in good 
weather — ^but we made shift always to run the gauntlet of the 
Moskoe-strom itself without accident; although at times my heart 

20 has been in my mouth when we happened to be a minute or so be- 
hind or before the slack. The wind sometimes was not as strong 
as we thought it at starting, and then we made rather less way 
than we could wish, while the current rendered the smack unman- 
ageable. My eldest brother had a son eighteen years old, and I had 

25 two stout boys of my own. These would have been of great assist- 
ance at such times, in using the sweeps, as well as afterward in fish- 
ing—but, somehow, although we ran the risk ourselves, we had not 
the heart to let the young ones get into the danger — for, after all 
said and done, it was a horrible danger, and that is the truth. 

30 "It is now within a few days of three years since what I am 
gomg to tell you occurred. It was on the tenth of July, 18 — , a 
day which the people of this part of the world will never forget — 
for it was one in which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever 
came out of the heavens. And yet all the morning, and indeed 

35 until late in the afternoon, there was a gentle and st^dy breeze 

180 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

from the southwest, while the sun shone brightly, so that the old- 
est seaman among us could not have foreseen what was to follow. 

"The three of us — ^my two brothers and myself — had crossed 
over to the islands about two o'clock P. M., and soon nearly loaded 

5 the smack with fine fish, which, we all remarked, were more plenty 

that day than we had ever known them. It was just seven, by my 

watch, when we weighed and started for home, so as to make the 

worst of the Strom at slack water, which we knew would be at eight. 

'^e set out with a fresh wind on our starboard quarter, and 

10 for some time spanked along at a great rate, never dreaming of 
danger, for indeed we saw not the slightest reason to apprehend it. 
All at once we were taken aback by a breeze from over Helseggen. 
This was most unusual — something that Had never happened to us 
before — and I began to feel a little uneasy, without exactly know- 

15 ing why. We put the boat on the wind, but could make no headway 
at all for the eddies, and I was upon the point of proposing to 
return to the anchorage, when, looking astern, we saw the whole 
horizon covered with a singular copper-colored cloud that rose with 
the most amazing velocity. 

20 "In the meantime the breeze that had headed us off fell away, 
and we were dead becalmed, drifting about in every direction. This 
state of things, however, did not last long enough to give us time 
to think about it. In less than a minute the storm was upon us— 
in less than two the sky was entirely overcast — and what with this 

25 and the driving spray, it became suddenly so dark that we could not 
see each other in the smack. 

"Such a hurricane as then blew it is folly to attempt describ- 
ing. The oldest seaman in Norway never experienced anything like 
it. We had let our sails go by the run before it cleverly took us; 

30 but, at the first puff, both our masts went by the board as if thev 
had been sawed off — ^the mainmast taking with it my youngest 
brother, who had lashed himself to it for safety. 

"Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat upon 
water. It had a complete flush deck, with only a small hatch near 

35 the bow, and this hatch it had always been our custom to batten 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 181 

down when about to cross the Strom, by way of precaution against 
the chopping seas. But for this circumstance we should have 
foundered at once — for we lay entirely buried for some moments. 
How my elder brother escaped destruction I cannot say, for I never 

5 had an opportunity of ascertaining. For my part, as soon as I had 
let the foresail run, I threw myself flat on deck, with my feet 
against the narrow gunwale of the bow, and with my hands grasp- 
ing a ringbolt near the foot of the foremast. It was mere instinct 
that prompted me to do this — ^which was undoubtedly the very best 

10 thing I could have done — for I was too much flurried to think. 

"For some moments we were completely deluged, as I say, and 
all this time I held my breath, and clung to the bolt. When I could 
stand it no longer I raised myself upon my knees, still keeping hold 
with my hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little 

IS boat gave herself a shake, just as a dog does in coming out of the 
water, and thus rid herself, in some measure, of the seas. I was 
now trjring to get the better of the stupor that had come over me, 
and to collect my senses so as to see what was to be done, when I 
felt somebody grasp my arm. It was my elder brother, and my 

20 heart leaped for joy, for I had made sure that he was overboard — 
but the next moment all this joy was turned into horror — ^for he 
put his mouth close to my ear, and screamed out the word 

"No one will ever know what my feelings were at that moment. 

25 I shook from head to foot as if I had had the most violent fit of the 
ague. I knew what he meant by that one word well enough — I 
knew what he wished to make me understand. With the wind that 
now drove us on, we were bound for the whirl of the Strom, and 
nothing could save us ! 

30 "You perceive that in crossing the Strom channel, we always 
went a long way up above the whirl, eyen in the calmest weather, 
and then had to wait and watch carefully for the slack — ^but now 
we were driving right upon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane 
as this ! To be sure,^ I thought, *we shall get there just about the 

35 slack — ^there is some little hope in that' — but in the next moment 

182 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

I cursed myself for being so great a fool as to dream of hope at all. 
I knew very well that we were doomed, had we been ten times a 
ninety-gun ship. 

*'By this time the first fury of the tempest had spent itself, or 
5 perhaps we did not feel it so much as we scudded before it; but at 
all events the seas, which at first had been kept dewn by the wind, 
and lay flat and frothing, now got up into absolute mountains. A 
singular change, too, had come over the heavens. Around in every 
direction it was still as black as pitch, but nearly overhead there 

10 burst out, all at once, a circular rift of clear sky — ^as clear as I ever 
saw— and of a deep bright bine — and through it there blazed forth 
the full moon with a luster that I never before knew her to wear. 
She lit up everything about us with the greatest distinctness — ^but, 
oh God, what a scene it was to light up ! 

15 "I now made one or two attempts to speak to my brother — ^but, 
in some manner which I could not understand, the din had so 
increased that I could not make him hear a single word, although 
I screamed at the top of my voice in his ear. Presently he shook 
his head, looking as pale as death, and held up one of his fingers, 

20 as if to say listen! 

^^At first I could not make out what he meant — ^but soon a 
hideous thought flashed upon me. I dragged my watch from its fob. 
It was not going. I glanced at its face by the moonlight, and then 
burst into tears as I flung it far away into the ocean. It had run 

25 down at seven o'clock I We were behind the time of the slack, and 
the whirl of the Strom was in full fury I 

*^When a boat is well built, properly trimmed, and not deep 
laden, the waves in a strong gale, when she is going large, seem 
always to slip from beneath her — ^which appears very strange to a 

30 landsman — and this is what is called riding, in sea phrase. 

*TVell, so far we had ridden the swells very cleverly ; but pres- 
ently a gigantic sea happened to take us right under the counter, 
and bore us with it as it rose — up — ^up — as if into the sky. I would 
not have believed that any wave could rise so high. And then down 

35 we came with a sweep, a slide, and a plunge, that made me feel sick 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 183 

and imjy as if I was falling from some lofty moimtain-top in a 
dream. But while we were up I had thrown a quick glance around 
—and that one glance was all-sufl&cient. I saw our exact position 
in an instant. The Moskoe-strom whirlpool was about a quarter of 

S a mile dead ahead — but no more like the everyday Moskoe-strom, 
than' the whirl as you now see it is like a mill-race. If I had not 
known where we were, and what we had to expect, I should not 
have recognized the place at all. As it was, I involuntarily closed 
my eyes in horror. The lids clenched themselves together as if in a 

10 spasm. 

"It could not have been more than two minutes afterwards until 
we suddenly felt the waves subside, and were enveloped in foam. 
The boat made a sharp half turn to larboard, and then shot off in 
its new direction like a thunderbolt. At the same moment the roar- 

15 ing noise of the water was completely drowned in a kind of shrill 
shriek — ^such a sound as you might imagine given out by the water- 
pipes of many thousand steam vessels, letting off their steam all 
together. We were now in the belt of surf that always surrounds 
the whirl ; and I thought, of course, that another moment would 

20 plunge us into the abyss — down which we could only see indis- 
tinctly on account of the amazing velocity with which we were borne 
along. The boat did not seem to sink into the water at all, but to 
skim like an air-bubble upon the surface of the surge. Her star- 
board side was next the whirl, and on the larboard arose the world 

25 of ocean we had left. It stood like a huge writhing wall between 
US and the horizon. 

"It may appear strange, but now, when we were in the very jaws 
of the gulf, I felt more composed than when we were only approach- 
ing it. Having made up my mind to hope no more, I got rid of a 

30 great deal of that terror which unmanned me at first. I suppose 
it was despair that strung my nerves. 

"It may look like boasting — but what I tell you is truth — I 
began to reflect how magnificent a thing it was to die in such a 
manner, and how foolish it was in me to think of so paltry a con- 

^ sideration as my own individual life, in view of so wonderful a 

184 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

manifestation of God's power. I do believe that I blushed with 
shame when this idea crossed my mind. After a little while I 
became possessed with the keenest curiosity about the whirl itself. 
I positively felt a wish to explore its depths, even at the sacrifice 
5 I was going to make ; and my principal grief was that I should never 
be able to tell my old companions on shore about the mysteries I 
should see. These, no doubt, were singular fancies to occupy a 
man's mind in such extremity — and I have often thought since, that 
the revolutions of the boat around the pool might have rendered me 

10 a little light-headed. 

"There was another circumstance which tended to restore my 
self-possession ; and this was the cessation of the wind, which could 
not reach us in our present situation — for, as you saw yourself, 
the belt of surf is considerably lower than the general bed of the 

15 ocean, and this latter now towered above us, a high, black, mountain- 
ous ridge. If you have never been at sea in a heavy gale, you can 
form no idea of the confusion of mind occasioned by the wind and 
spray together. They blind, deafen, and strangle you, and take 
away all power of action or reflection. But we were now, in a great 

20 measure, rid of these annoyances — just as death-condemned felons 
in prisons are allowed petty indulgences, forbidden them while their 
doom is yet uncertain. 

"How often we made the circuit of the belt it is impossible to 
say. We careered round and round for perhaps an hour, flying 

25 rather than floating, getting gradually more and more into the 
middle of the surge, and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner 
edge. All this time I had never let go of the ringbolt. My brother 
was at the stern, holding on to a small empty water-cask which had 
been securely lashed under the coop of the counter, and was the only 

30 thing on deck that had not been swept overboard when the gale 
flrst took us. As we approached the brink of the pit he let go his 
hold upon this, and made for the ring, from which, in the agony of 
his terror, he endeavored to force my hands, as it was not large 
enough to afford us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief 

35 than when I saw him attempt this act — although I knew he was a 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 185 

madman when he did it — a raving maniac through sheer fright. I 
did not care, however, to contest the point with him. I knew it 
could make no diflEerence whether either of us held on at all ; so I 
let him have the bolt, and went astern to the cask. This there was 

5 no great difficulty in doing; for the smack flew round steadily 
enough, and upon an even keel — only swaying to and fro, with the 
immense sweeps and swelters of the whirl. Scarcely had I secured 
myself in my new position, when we gave a wild lurch to starboard, 
and rushed headlong into the abyss. I muttered a hurried prayer 

10 to God, and thought all was over. 

"As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent, I had instinctively 
tightened my hold upon the barrel, and closed my eyes. For some 
seconds I dared not open them — ^while I expected instant destruc- 
tion, and wondered that I was not already in my death-struggles 

IS with the water. But moment after moment elapsed. I still lived. 
The sense of falling had ceased ; and the motion of the vessel seemed 
much as it had been before, while in the belt of foam, with the 
exception that she now lay more along. I took courage and looked 
once again upon the scene. 

20 "Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and admira- 
tion with which I gazed about me. The boat appeared to be hang- 
ing, as if by magic, midway down, upon the interior surface of a 
funnel vast in circumference, prodigious in depth, and whose per- 
fectly smooth sides might have been mistaken for ebony, but for 

25 the bewildering rapidity with which they spun around, and for the 
gleaming and ghastly radiance they shot forth, as the rays of the 
full moon, from that circular rift amid the clouds which I have 
already described, streamed in a flood of golden glory along the 
black walls, and far away down into the inmost recesses of the 

30 abyss. 

"At first I was too much confused to observe anything accurately. 
The general burst of terrific grandeur was all that I beheld. When 
I recovered myself a little, however, my gaze fell instinctively down- 
ward. In this direction I was able to obtain an unobstructed view, 

^ from the manner in which the smack hung on the inclined surface 

186 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

of the pool. She was quite upon an even keel — ^that is to say, her 
deck lay in a plane parallel with that of the water — ^but this latter 
sloped at an angle of more than forty-five degrees, so that we seemed 
to be lying upon our beam-ends. I could not help observing, never- 
5 theless, that I had scarcely more difficulty in maintaining my hold 
and footing in this situation, than if we had been upon a dead 
level; and this, I suppose, was owing to the speed at which we 

^The rays of the moon seemed to search the very bottom of the 

10 profound gulf; but still I could make out nothing distinctly, on 
account of a thick mist in which everything there was enveloped, 
and over which there hung a magnificent rainbow, like ihat narrow 
and tottering bridge which Mussulmans say is the only pathway 
between Time and Eternity. This mist, or spray, was no doubt 

15 occasioned by the clashing of the great walls of the funnel, as they 
all met together at the bottom — ^but the yell that went up to the 
heavens from out of that mist, I dare not attempt to describe. 

*'Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of foam above, 
had carried us to a great distance down the slope ; but our farther 

20 descent was by no means proportionate. Eound and round we 
swept' — not with any uniform movement, but in dizzying swings and 
jerks, that sent us sometimes only a few hundred yards — sometimes 
nearly the complete circuit of the whirl. Our progress downward, 
at each revolution, was slow, but very perceptible. 

25 ^Tjooking about me upon the wide waste of liquid ebony on 
which we were thus borne, I perceived that our boat was not the 
only object in the embrace of the whirl. Both above and below 
us were visible fragments of vessels, large masses of building timber 
and trunks of trees, with many smaller articles, such as pieces of 

30 house furniture, broken boxes, barrels, and staves. I have already 
described the unnatural curiosity which had taken the place of my 
original terrors. It appeared to grow upon me as I drew nearer and 
nearer to my dreadful doom. I now began to watch, with a strange 
interest, the numerous things that floated in our company. I must 

35 have been delirious — for I even sought amusement in speculating 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 187 

upon the relative velocities of their several descents toward the foam 
below. This fir tree/ I found myself at one time saying, Vill cer- 
tainly be the next thing that takes the awful plunge and disap- 
pears/ — ^and then I was disappointed to find that the wreck of a 

S Dutch merchant ship overtook it and went down before. At length, 
after making several guesses of this nature, and being deceived in 
all— this fact — ^the fact of my invariable miscalculation, set me 
upon a traiA of reflection that made my limbs again tremble, and 
my heart beat heavily once more. 

10 "It was not a new terror that thus affected me, but the dawn of 
a more exciting hope. This hope arose partly from memory, and 
partly from present observation. I called to mind the great variety 
of buoyant matter that strewed the coast of Lofoden, having been 
absorbed and then thrown forth by the Moskoe-strom. By far the . 

IS greater number of the articles were shattered in the most extraordi- 
nary way — so chafed and roughened as to have the appearance of 
being stuck full of splinters — ^but then I distinctly recollected that 
there were some of them -which were not disfigured at all. Now I 
could not account for this difference except by supposing that the 

20 roughened fragments were the only ones which had been completely 
ahsorhed — ^that the others had entered the whirl at so late a period 
of the tide, or, from some reason, had descended so slowly after 
entering, that they did not reach the bottom before the turn of the 
flood came, or of the ebb, as the case might be. I conceived it possi- 

25 ble, in either instance, that they might thus be whirled up again to 
the level of the ocean, without undergoing the fate of those which 
had been drawn in more early or absorbed more rapidly. I made, 
also, three important observations. The first was, that as a general 
rule, the larger the bodies were, the more rapid their descent ; the 

30 second, that, between two masses of equal extent, the one spherical, 
and the other of any other shape, the superiority in speed of descent 
was with the sphere ; the third, that, between two masses of equal 
size, the one cylindrical, and the other of any other shape, the cylin- 
der was absorbed the more slowly. Since my escape, I have had sev- 

35 eral conversations on this subject with an old schoolmaster of the 

188 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

district; and it was from him that I learned the use of the words 
^cylinder* and ^sphere/ He explained to me — ^although I have for- 
gotten the explanation — ^how what I observed was, in fact, the nat- 
ural consequence of the forms of the floating fragments, and showed 

S me how it happened that a cylinder, swinuning in a vortex, oflEered 
more resistance to its suction, and was drawn in with greater diflB- 
culty, than an equally bulky body, of any form whatever. 

"There was one startling circumstance which went fi great way 
in enforcing these observations, and rendering me anxious to turn 

10 them to account, and this was that, at every revolution, we passed 
something like a barrel, or else the yard or the mast of a vessel, 
while many of these things, which had been on our level when I 
first opened my eyes upon the wonders of the whirlpool, were now 
high up above us, and seemed to have moved but little from their 

IS original station. 

**I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself 
securely to the water-cask upon which I now held, to cut it loose 
from the counter, and to throw myself with it into the water. I 
attracted my brother's attention by signs, pointed to the floating 

20 barrels that came near us, and did everything in my power to make 
him understand what I was about to do. I thought at length that 
he comprehended my design — ^but, whether this was the case or not, 
he shook his head despairingly, and refused to move from his station 
by the ringbolt. It was impossible to reach him; the emergency 

25 admitted ©f no delay; and so, with a bitter struggle, I resigned 
him to his fate, fastened myself to the cask by means of the lashings 
which secured it to the counter, and precipitated myself with it 
into the sea, without another moment's hesitation. 

"The result was precisely what I had hoped it might, be. As it 

30 is myself who now tell you this tale — ^as you see that I did escape — 
and as you are already in possession of the mode in which this 
escape was effected, and must therefore anticipate all that I have 
farther to say — I will bring my story quickly to conclusion. It 
might have been an hour, or thereabout, after my quitting the 

35 smack, when, having descended to a vast distance beneath me, it 

A Descent Into the Maelstrom 189 

made three or four wild gyrations in rapid succession, and, bearing 
my loved brother with it, plunged headlong, at once and forever, 
into the chaos of foam below. The barrel to which I was attached 
sunk very little farther than half the distance between the bottom 

5 of the gulf and the spot at which I leaped overboard, before a great 
change took place in the character of the whirlpool. The slope of 
the sides of the vast funnel became momently less and less steep. 
The gyrations of the whirl grew, gradually, less and less violent. 
By degrees, the froth and the rainbow disappeared, and the bottom 

10 of the gulf seemed slowly to uprise. The sky was clear, the winds 
had gone dovm, and the full moon was setting radiantly in the west, 
when I found myself on the surface of the ocean, in full view ef the 
shores of Lofoden, and above the spot where the pool of the Moskoe- 
strom had been. It was the hour of the slack, but the sea still 

IS heaved in mountainous waves from the effects of the hurricane. I 
was borne violently into the channel of the Strom, and in a few min- 
utes was hurried down the coast into the ^grounds' of the fishermen. 
A boat picked me up— exhausted from fatigue — and (now that the 
danger was removed) speechless from the memory of its horror. 

20 Those who drew me on board were my old mates and daily com- 
panions, but they knew me no more than they would have known a 
traveler from the spirit-land. My hair, which had been raven-black 
the day before, was as white as you see it now. They say, too, that 
the whole expression of my countenance had changed. I told them 

25 my story — they did not believe it. I now tell it to you — and I can 
scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merry fisher- 
men of Lofoden.^* 

Notes and Questions 

Locate the scene of this story on 

your map. 
How does the hero account for his 

apparent age? 
What do you learn from Jonas 

Ramus 's description of the whirl- 
How does the '* Encyclopedia 
Britannica" account for the 


Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

"What was the theory of Kircherf 

Briefly relate in your own words 
the hero's story of his experi- 
ence in the Maelstrom. 

What tempted him into the whirl- 

Account for his miscalculation as 
to the time of the slack. 

What three observations did the 

hero make? 
How did he make his escape? 
From this story what do you think 

of Poe's powers of imagination 

and description? 
What other authors have you read 

that have similar powers? 

Words and Plirajstes for Discnssion 

* ' circumstantial ' ' 
* ' bleak-looking ' ' 
** double-reefed" 
** gyrating" 
** prodigious" 
' ' encompassed ' ' 
' ' inevitably ' ' 

' ' deplorably desolate ' ' 
"gleaming spray" 
* ' boisterous rapidity ' ' 
' ' fruitless struggles ' ' 
' ' desperate speculation ' ' 
"terrific grandeur" 
' ' frenzied convulsions ' ' 
* ' precipitous descents ' ' 
* ' sufficiently plausible ' ' 

"belt of foam" 
' ' collision of waves ' ' 
' ' flood of golden glory ' ' 
"wild waste of liquid 

"chaos of foam" 
"the gyrations of the 




Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, — 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 
" Tis some visitor," I muttered, ^^tapping at my chamber door : 
Only this and nothing more." 


Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its gh6st upon the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow ; — vainly I had sought to borrow 
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore : 
Nameless here for evermore. 

The Raven 191 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
Thrilled me^— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; 
15 So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating 
"Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door. 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door : 
This it is and nothing more/' 

Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, 
20 "Sir,^' said I, *'or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ; 
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping. 
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, 
That I scarce was sure I heard you'' — here I opened wide the 
door: — 

Darkness there and nothing more. 

25 Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fear- 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before ; 
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ^Tienore?" 
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore" : 

30 Merely this and nothing more. 

Back into the diamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. 
"Surely," said I, ^^surely that is something at my window lattice; 
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore ; 
35 Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore : 
'Tis the wind and nothing more/' 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter. 
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. 
Not the least obeisance made he ; not a minute stopped or stayed he; 
40 But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door. 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door : 
Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

192 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling 
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, — 
45 "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou/' I said, "art sure no 
Ghastly grim and ancient Eaven wandering from the Nightly shore : 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !'' 
Quoth the Eaven, "Nevermore/' 

Much I marveled this imgainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
50 Though its answer little meaning — ^little relevancy bore; 
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door. 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door. 
With such name as "Nevermore." 

55 But the Eaven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 
Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered. 
Till I scarcely more than muttered, — ^^^Other friends have flown 

before ; 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before." 

60 Then the bird said, "Nevermore." 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store. 
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmer6iful Disaster 
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore : 
65 Till. the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 
Of fNever — nevermore.' " 

But the Eaven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling. 

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and 

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
70 Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore. 

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore 
Meant in croaking "Nev,ermore." 

The Raven ' 193 

This I sat engaged in guessing^ but no syllable expressing 
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core ; 
K This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er. 
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er 
She shall press, ah, nevermore ! 

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen 
BO Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 
"Wretch,^^ I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — ^by these angels he hath 

sent thee 
Respite — ^respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! 
Quaflf, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore !" 
Quoth the Eaven, "Nevermore." 

^ "Prophet !" said I, "thing of evil ! prophet still, if bird or devil ! 
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, 
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — 
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore : 
Is there — is there balm in Gilead ? — tell me — tell me, I implore !" 

10 Quoth the Eaven, "Nevermore." 

"Prophet !" said I, "thing of evil — ^prophet still, if bird or devil ! 
By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore. 
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore : 
S Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the. angels name Lenore !" 
Quoth the Eaven, "Nevermore." 

**Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend !" I shrieked, up- 
starting : 
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! 
00 Leave my loneliness unbroken ! quit the bust above my door ! 

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my 

Quoth the Eaven, "Nevermore." 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; 
105 And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon^s that is dreaming. 
And the lamp-light o^er him streaming throws his shadow on the 

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 
Shall be lifted — ^nevermore ! 


Notes and 
What is the theme of this poemf 
What gives it its musical quality? 
Mention parts that you think are 

especially beautiful. 
Find examples of alliteration. 
What does the refrain add to this 

What is the meaning of '^ Night's 

Plutonian shore"? 


Of what is the raven a symbol? 
Why does the poet call the bust 

of Pallas '* pallid''? 
What is the significance of the la»t 

From this poem, in what would 

you say Poe's poetry excels? 
Which stanza do you like best? 


Words and Phrases for Discussion 



"tufted floor" 



"pallid bust" 



"radiant maiden" 


"dying ember" 

"dirges of his Hope" 


"fantastic terrors" 

"bird of yore" 


"saintly days" 

"balm in Gilead" 


In "The Courtship of Miles Standish" Longfellow has made 
ms acquainted with his ancestors, John Alden and Priscilla Mullens, 
passengers of the Mayflower. Of such ancestry Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow was bom in Portland, Maine, February 27, 1807. His 
birthplace was at that time a beautiful and busy town, a forest city 
with miles of sea beach and a port where merchant vessels from the 
West Indies exchanged sugar and rum for the products of tiie 
forest and the fisheries of Maine. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 195 

We are told that he was a boy "true, high-minded and noble" ; 
'^active, eager, often impatient"; "handsome in appearance" and 
the "sunlight of the home." His conduct at school was "very cor- 
rect and amiable" — ^he read much and was always studious and 
thoughtfuL The first book which fascinated his imagination was 
Irving's "Sketch-Book." Indeed there is a resemblance between 
the gentle Irving and the gentle Longfellow which is expressed in 
the prose of one and the poetry of the other. 

Longfellow's education was obtained in Portland and at Bow- 
doin College, Brunswick, Maine, where he had for classmates sev- 
eral youths who afterward became famous, Nathaniel Hawthorne, 
J. S. C. Abbott, and Franklin Pierce. Upon Longfellow^s gradua- 
tion, the trustees of the college, having decided* to establish a chair 
of modem languages, proposed that this young graduate, of schol- 
arly and literary tastes, should fit himself for this position. Three 
years, therefore, he spent in delightful study and travel in Prance, 
Spain, Italy, and Germany. Here was laid the foundation for his 
scholarship, and, as in Irving on his first European trip, there was 
kindled that passion for romantic lore which followed him through 
life and which gave color and direction to much of his work. He 
mastered the language of each country visited in a remarkably 
short time, and many of the choicer poems found in these lan- 
guages he has given to us in the English. 

After five years at Bowdoin, Longfellow was invited in 1834 to 
the chair of modem languages in Harvard College. Again he was 
given an opportunity to prepare himself by a year of study abroad. 
In 1836 he began his active work at Harvard and took up his resi- 
dence in the historic Craigie House, overlooking the Charles Eiver 
— ^a house in which Washington had been quartered for some 
months when he came to Cambridge in 1775 to take command of 
the Continental forces. Longfellow was thenceforth one of the 
most prominent members of that group of men including Sumner, 
Hawthorne, Agassiz, Lowell, and Holmes, who gave distinction to 
the Boston and Cambridge of earlier days. 

For twenty years Longfellow filled the professorship of modem 

196 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

languages at Harvard and was one of the best beloved instructors 
at the university. He resigned that he might devote himself to 
writing and was succeeded at Harvard by James Russell Lowell. 

Though Longfellow wrote in prose and is the author of many 
shorter poems, his reputation is mainly based upon his longer 
poems. Longfellow was a great admirer of the German poet, 
Goethe, to whose "Hermann and Dorothea'* we are indebted for 
much of the form and no doubt some of the story of Evangeline. 
The story of Acadie was told first to Hawthorne by a friend of both 
authors; but the tale was hardly dark enough to suit the fancy of 
Hawthorne, whereas to Longfellow it seemed to have in it precisely 
those elements of faith and devotion that make the widest appeal. 
In a collection of poems published in 1850 appeared the poem of 
Longfellow's highest patriotic reach, the allegory of "The Building 
of the Ship/' A friend of Lincoln recited this poem to him, and 
when the lines of its closing apostrophe to the ship of state were 
reached, with tears in his eyes the president said, "It is a great gift 
to be able to stir men like that." In his poem, "Hiawatha," Long- 
fellow chose the metre of the Finnish epic "Kalevala," which is 
peculiarly suited to the tales of primitive people. The worthiest 
and most picturesque traditions of the American Indian are woven 
into a connected story whose charm is greatly heightened by the 
novel melody of the verse. 

In 1861 the happiness of Longfellow's home life was broken 
by the death of his wife, who was fatally burned. He turned from 
this sorrow and the anxieties of the Civil War to the more mechan- 
ical work of writing tales 'and making translations. The "Tales 
of a Wayside Inn" appeared in 1863, and seven years later he pub- 
lished his translation of Dante's "Divine Comedy." 

On Longfellow's seventy-second birthday the children of Cam- 
bridge presented him with a chair made from the wood of the 
"Village Blacksmith's" chestnut tree. He died March 24, 1882, 
aged seventy-five. In 1884 a bust of him was placed in the Poets' 
Corner of Westminster Abbey — England's gracious tribute to the 
renown of America's best loved poet. 

Evangeline 197 



This is the forest primeval. The mnnnuring pines and the 
hemlocks^ * 

Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the 

Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, 

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. 
5 Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the 

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that 

beneath it 
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice 

of the huntsman? 
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian 

farmers, — 
10 Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands. 
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of 

heaven ? 
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever de- 
parted ! 
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October 
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the 

IS Xaught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand- 


Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is 
, Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion, 
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the 

forest ; 
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy. 

198 E18071 Grammar School Reader Book Four 


In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas^ 

Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre 

Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the east- 

Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without 
5 Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor inces- 

Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood- 

Opened and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows. 

West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and corr- 

Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the 
10 Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the moimtains 

Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic 

Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station de- 

There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village. 

Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of chest- 
15 Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the 

Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows ; and gables pro- 

Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway. 

There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the 

Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the chimneys, 
20 Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles 

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden 

Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors 

Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the songs 
of the maidens. 

Evangeline 199 

Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the chil- 
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them. 
Beverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons and 

Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome. 
5 Then came the laborers home from the field, and serenely the 
sun sank 
Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the belfry 
Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the village 
Columns of pale blue snioke, like clouds of incense ascending, 
Bose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and content- 
10 Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers, — 
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from 
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics. 
Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their windows ; 
But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the 
owners ; 
IS There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance. 

Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of 

Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pr6, 

Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, directing his house- 

Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village. 
20 Stalworth and stately in form was the man of seventy winters; 

Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snow-flakes ; 

White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as brown as 
the oak-leaves. 

Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers ; 

Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the 
^^ Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade 
of her tresses ! 

Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the 

200 EUon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontide 

Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was the maiden. 

Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its 

Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop 
5 Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them, 

Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads and 
her missal, • 

Wearing her Norman cap and her kirtle of blue, and the ear- 

Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heir- 

Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. 
10 But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — 

Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after confession, 

Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her. 

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite 

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer 
IS Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; and a shady 
Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around it. 
Eudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath ; and a footpath 
Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow. 
Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung by a penthouse, 
20 Such as the traveler sees in regions remote by the roadside, 
Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of Mary. 
Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well with its 

Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the horses. 
Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the barns 
and the farm-yard ; 
25 There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique ploughs 
and the harrows ; 
There were the folds for the sheep; and there, in his feathered 

Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, w4th the self- 

Evangeline 201 

Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter. 
Bursting with hay were the bams, themselves a village. In each 

Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; and a staircase, 
Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous cornloft. 
5 There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and innocent inmates 
Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the variant breezes 
Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of mutation. 

Thus, at peace with Qod and the world, the farmer of Grand- 
Pr6 . 

Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed his house- 
10 Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his missal. 

Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his deepest devotion ; 

Happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of her 
garment ! 

Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness befriended, 

And, as he knocked and waited to hear the sound of her foot- 
15 Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the knocker of 
iron ; ' 

Or, at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the village. 

Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he whispered 

Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the music. 

But among all who came young Gabriel only was welcome ; 
20 Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith, 

Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored of all men ; 

For since the birth of time, throughout all ages and nations, 

Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the people. 

Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from earliest child- 
25 Grew up together as brother and sister ; and Father Felician, 

Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their 

Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the church and the 

But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson completed. 

302 Elso7i Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the blacksmith. 

There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold him 

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything, 

Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him the tire of the cart- 
5 Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders. 

Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness 

Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through every cranny and 

Warm by the -forge within they watched the laboring bellows, 

And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in the ashes, 
10 Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the chapel. 

Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle, 

Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er the meadow. 

Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the rafters, 

Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, which the swallow 
15 Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight of its 
fledglings ; 

Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the swallow ! 

Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were children. 

He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of the morning, 

Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought into 
20 She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a woman. 

"Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called; for that was the 

Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with 
apples ; 

She too would bring to her husband's house delight and abun- 

Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of children. 

25 Now liad the season returned, when the nights grow colder 
and longer. 

And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters. 

Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice- 

Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands. 

Evangeline 203 

Harvests were gathered in ; and wild with the winds of September 
Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with the angel. 
All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. 
Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their honey 
5 Till the hives overflowed ; and the Indian hunters asserted 
Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes. 
Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful 

Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints ! 
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the 
10 Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood. 
Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the 

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in harmony 

Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the farm- 
Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons, 
^ All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, and the great 
Looked with the eye of love through the golden vapors around 

While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet and yellow. 
Bright With the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of the 

Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles 
and jewels. 

20 Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness. 
Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight 

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the 

Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each 

And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of 


204 Elson Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer, 

Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from 
her collar, 

Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. 

Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the 
5 Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them followed the 

Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his instinct, 

Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly 

Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers ; 

Begent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; their pro- 
10 When from the forest at night, through the starry silence, the 
wolves howled. 

Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the marshes, 

Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. 

Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and their 

While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous saddles, 
15 Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of crimson, 

Xodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blossoms. 

Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their udders 

Vnto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular cadence 

Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended. 
20 Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the farm- 

Echoed back by the bams. Anon they sank into stillness ; 

Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn- 

Battled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. 

In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the farmer 

2S Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the flames and the 


Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind him. 

Nodding and mocking along the wall with gestures fantastic. 

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished awav into darkness. 

Evangeline 205 

Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm-chair 

Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates on the 

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies the sunshine. 

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christmas, 
S Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him 

Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian vine- 

Close at her father^s side was the gentle Evangeline seated. 

Spinning flax for the loom that stood in the corner behind her. 

Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its diligent shuttle, 
10 While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the drone of a 

Followed the ,old man's song, and united the fragments together. 

As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals ceases, 

Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at the 

So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion the clock 

15 Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, suddenly 

Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back on its hinges. 

Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil the black- 

And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with him. 

"Welcome !" the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps paused on 
the threshold, 
20 "Welcome, Basil, my friend ! Come, take thy place on the settle 

Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty without thee ; 

Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of tobacco ; 

Never so much thyself art thou as when, through the curling 

Smoke of the pipe or the forge, thy friendly and jovial face 
25 Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist of the 

Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the black- 

206 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside: — 
^^Benedict Belief ontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad • 
Ever in cheerfuUest mood art thou, when others are filled with 
Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before them. 
5 Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horse- 
Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evangeline brought him. 
And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he slowly con- 
tinued: — 
^Tour days now are passed since the English ships at their 

Bide in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon pointed against 
10 What their design may be is unknown ; but all are commanded 
On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majesty's man- 
Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in the meantime 
Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people.^' 
Then made answer the farmer : — "Perhaps some friendlier pur- 
IS Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests in Eng- 
By the untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted. 
And from our bursting bams they would feed their cattle and 

"Xot so thinketh the folk in the village,*' said warmly the black- 
Shaking his head as in doubt; then, heaving a sigh, he con- 
tinued : — 
20 "Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor Port Koyal. 
Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on its outskirts. 
Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of tomorrow. 
Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weapons of all kinds ; 
Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the scythe of the 
25 Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial farmer : — 
"Safer are we imarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our corn- 

Evangeline 207 

Safer within these peaceful dikes besieged by the ocean, 

Than were our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's cannon. 

Fear no evil, my friend, and tonight may no shadow of sorrow 

Fall on this house and hearth ; for this is the night of the con- 
5 Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of the village 

Strongly have built them and well ; and, breaking the glebe round 
about them, 

Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a twelve- 

Bene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and inkhorn. 

Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy of our chil- 
dren r 
10 As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her lover's, 

Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had spoken. 

And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary entered. 

Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean. 

Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public ; 
15 Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, hung 

Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and glasses with horn 

Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal. 

Father of twenty children was he, and more than a hundred 

Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his great watch 
20 Four long years in the times of the war had he languished a 

Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of the Eng- 

Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion, 

Kipe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike. 

He was beloved by all, and most of all by the children ; 
25 For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the forest. 

And of the goblin that came in the night to water the horses, 

And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who unchristened 

Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers of children ; 

And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable. 

208 Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a nutshell; 
And of the marvelous powers of four-leaved clover and horse- 

With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the village. 
Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the blacksmith, 
5 Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his right 

"Father Leblanc/' he exclaimed, "thou hast heard the talk in 

the village,. 
And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships and their 

Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary public, — 
"Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser; 
10 And what their errand may be I know not better than others. 
Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intention 
Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why then molest us ?" 
"God^s name !" shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible black- 
smith ; 
"Must we in all things look for the how, and the why, and the 

wherefore ? 
15 Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the strongest !" 
But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary public,— 
"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice 
Triumphs ; and well I remember a story, that often consoled me, 
When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at Port Eoyal." 
20 This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved to repeat it 
When his neighbors complained that any injustice was done them. 
"Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer remember, 
Eaised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice 
Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its left hand, 
25 And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice presided 
Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and homes of the 

Even the birds had built their nests in the scales of the balance, 
Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the sunshine above 

But in the course of time the laws of the land were corrupted; 

Evangeline 209 

Might took the place of right, and the weak were oppressed, and 

the mighty 
Euled with an iron rod. Th'en it chanced in a nobleman's palace 
That a necklace of pearls was lost, and ere long a suspicion 
Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the household. 
S She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold. 
Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice. 
As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit ascended, 
Lo ! o'er the city a tempest rose ; and the bolts of the thunder 
Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its left 

10 Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of the balance. 
And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a magpie. 
Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls was inwoven.'* 
Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, the 

Stood like a man who fain would speak, but findeth no language ; 
15 All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face, as the 

Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in the winter. 

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table. 
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-brewed 
Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the village of 

20 While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and inkhorn. 
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the parties, 
Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and in cattle. 
Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were completed. 
And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the margin. 

2S Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the table 
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver ; 
And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and the bridegroom, 
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their welfare. 
Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed and departed, 

30 While in silence the others sat and mused by the flreside. 
Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of its corner. 
Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention the old men 

210 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful manoeuvre. 
Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach was made in the 

Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window^s embrasure, 
Sat the lovers and whispered together, beholding the moon rise 
S Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows. 
Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven. 
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. 

Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell from the belfry 

Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and straightway 
10 Rose the guests and departed; and silence reigned in the house- 

Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the door-step 

Lingered long in Evangeline^s heart, and filled it with gladness. 

Carefully then were covered the embers that glowed on the 

And on thS oaken stairs resounded the tread of the farmer. 
IS Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline followed. 

Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the darkness, 

Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the maiden. 

Silent she passed through the hall, and entered the- door of her 

Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and its 
20 Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully folded 

Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline woven. 

This was the precious dower she would bring to her husband in 

Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a house- 

Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radiant 
25 Streamed through the windows, and lighted the room, till the 
heart of the maiden 

Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of the 

Ah ! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she stood with 

Evangeline 211 

Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber ! 

Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of the orchard, 

Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her lamp and her 

Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling of sadness 
5 Passed o^er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moon- 

Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a moment. 

And, as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the moon 

Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her footsteps,. 

As out of Abraham^s tent young Ishmael wandered with Hagar. 


10 Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand-Pr6- 
Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Qasin of Minas, 
Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at 

Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor 
Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of the 

15 Now from the country around, from the farms and neighboring 

Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants. 
Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the young folk 
Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows,. 
Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the 

20 Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on the high- 

Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor were silenced. 
Thronged were the streets with people ; and noisy groups at the 

Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together. 
Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and ieasted ; 
25 For with this simple people, who lived like brothers together. 
All things were held in common, and what one had was another's* 
Yet under Benedicts roof hospitality seemed more abundant : 
For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father; 

212 Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and glad- 
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it. 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard, 

Bending with golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. 
5 There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the notary 
seated ; 

There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith. 

Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and the bee- 

Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts and of 

Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played on his snow- 
10 Hair, as it waved in the wind; and the jolly face of the fiddler 

Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from the 

Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his fiddle. 

Tons les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon de Dunkerque, 

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. 
15 Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances 

Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows; 

Old folk f^nd young together, and children mingled among them. 

Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's daughter ! 

Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the blacksmith. 

20 So passed the morning away. And lo! with a summons 

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum 

Thronged ere long was the church with men. Without, in the 

Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on the 

Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest 
25 Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly 

among them 

Evangeline 213 

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant clangor 
Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and case- 
ment, — 
Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal 
Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. 
5 Then uprose their commander, and spake from the steps of the 
Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal commission. 
"You are convened this day,^' he said, "by his Majesty's orders. 
Clement and kind has he been ; but how you have answered his 

Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural make and my temper 
10 Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be grievous. 
Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our monarch : 
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of all kinds 
Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from this 

Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell there 
15 Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people ! 
Prisoners now I declare you, for such is his Majesty's pleasure !'* 
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, 
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hailstones 
Beats down the farmer's corn in the field, and shatters his win- 
20 Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from the 
Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their enclosures ; 
So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker. 
Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then rose 
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, 
25 And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the door-way. 
Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce imprecations 
Bang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er the heads of 

the others 
Bose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the blacksmith. 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 
30 Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; and wildly he 
shouted, — 

^14 Elson Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

"Down with the tyrants of England ! we never have sworn them 
allegiance ! 

Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our 
harvests !" 

More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier 

Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pave- 

5 In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, 
Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician 
Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the altar. 
Eaising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence 
All that clamorous throng ; and thus he spake to his people ; 
10 Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents measured and mourn- 
Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes. 
"What is this that ye do, my children ? what madness has seized 

Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and taught you, 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another ! 
IS Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and priva- 
tions ? 
Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness? 
This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you pro- 
fane it 
Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred? 
Lo ! where the crucified Christ from His cross is gazing upon you ! 
30 See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compassion ! 
Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, '0 Father, forgive 

them V 
Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us, 
Let us repeat it now, and say, ^0 Father, forgive them !' '' 
Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his 
25 Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate out- 
And they repeated his prayer, and said, "0 Father, forgive 

Evangeline 215 

Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from the 
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people 

M with their lips alone, but their hearts ; and the Ave Maria 
Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with devotion 
5 Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and on 
all sides 
Wandered, wailing, from house to house the women and children. 
Long at her father^s door Evangeline stood, with her right hand 
Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, descend- 
10 Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor and roofed 
Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned its win- 
Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on the table ; 
There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant with wild 

flowers ; 
There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh brought 
from the dairy ; 
15 And at the head of the board the great arm-chair of the farmer. 
Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, as the sunset 
Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad ambrosial 

Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen. 
And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial ascended, — 
20 Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, and patience ! 
Then, all forgetful of self, she wandered into the village, 
Cheering with looks and words the disconsolate hearts of the 

As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they departed. 
Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet of their 
25 Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors 

216 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded. 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline lingered. 

All was silent within ; and in vain at the door and the windows 

5 Stood she, and listened and looked, until, overcome by emotion, 

"Gabriel 1" cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; but no answer 

Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier grave of 

the living. 
Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of her 

Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board stood the supper 
10 Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phantoms of 
Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her chamber. 
In the dead of the night she heard the whispering rain fall 
Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the window. 
Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of the echoing thun- 
IS Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world He 
created ! 
Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice of 

Heaven ; 
Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefxdly slumbered till 


Four times the sun Lad risen and set; and now on the fifth day 
Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farm-house. 
20 Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful procession, 
Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the Acadian 

Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to the sea- 
Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their dwellings, 
Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and the wood- 

Evangeline 217 

Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the oxen, 
While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of play- 

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried; and there on 
the sea-beach 

Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants. 
5 AH day long between the shore and the ships did the boats ply ; 

All day long the wains came laboring down from the village. 

Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting, 

Echoing far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from the 

Thither the women and children thronged. On a sudden the 
10 Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy pro- 

Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian farmers, 

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and their 

Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and way- 

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended 
IS Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and their 

Foremost the young men came ; and, raising together their voices. 

Sang they with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic Mis- 
sions: — 

"Sacred heart of the Saviour ! inexhaustible fountain ! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and 
patience !" 
20 Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that stood 
by the wayside 

Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the sunshine above 

Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits departed. 

Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited in silence, 
Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of affliction,— 

218 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Calmly and sadly waited, until the procession approached her. 

And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. 

Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running to meet him. 

Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his shoulder, and 
whispered, — 
S "Gabriel ! be of good cheer ! for if we love one another 

Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may hap- 

Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her 

Saw she, slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed was his aspect ! 

Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his eye, and 
his footstep 
10 Heavier seemed with the weight of the weary heart in his bosom. 

But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck and embraced 

Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed 

Thus to the Gaspereau^s mouth moved on that mournful pro- 

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of embarking. 
15 Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the confusion 

Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too late, saw 

their children 
Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest entreaties. 
So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried. 
While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her father. 
20 Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and the 
Deef)ened and darkened around ; and in haste the refluent ocean 
Fled away from the shore, and left the line of the sand-beach 
Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slippery sea- 
Farther back in the midst of the household goods and the wagons, 
25 Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle, 

All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near them, 

Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian farmers. i 

Evangeline 219 

Back to its nethermost eaves retreated the bellowing ocean, 
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and leaving 
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors. 
Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from their 

pastures ; 
5 Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of milk from their 

udders ; 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the 

farm-yard, — 
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the 

Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus 

Bose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights from the 


10 But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been 

Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks in 

the tempest. 
Bound them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were gathered, 
Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying of 

Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his parish, 
15 Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and 

Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate seashore. 
Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat with her 

And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man. 
Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought or 

20 E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been 

Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him. 
Vainly ofPered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, he 

spake not. 
But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering fire-light. 

220 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

'^Benediciter murmured the priest, in tones of compassion. 
More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and his 

Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on a 

Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence of 

5 Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the maiden, 
Baising his eyes full of tears to the silent stars that above them 
Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sorrows 

of mortals. 
Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in silence. 

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the 

10 Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon 
Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and 

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and pilixig huge shadows 

Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the village, 
Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in the 

15 Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were 
Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quivering 

hands of a martyr. 
Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch, and, 

Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred 

Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame intermingled. 

20 These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore and on 
Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud in their anguish, 
"We shall behold no more our homes in the village of Grand- 

Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farmyards, 

Evangeline 221 

Thinking the day had dawned; and anon the lowing of cattle 
Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs interrupted. 
Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping 

Far in the western prairies of forests that skirt the Nebraska, 
S When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the speed of the 

Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the river. 
Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the herds and 

the horses 
Broke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed o'er 

the meadows. 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and the 

10 Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened before 

And as they turned at length to speak to their silent companion, 
Lo! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on the 

Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had departed. 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the maiden 
IS Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her terror. 
Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious slumber ; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a multitude 

near her. 
Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully gazing upon 

20 Pallid, with tearful eves, and looks of saddest compassion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the landscape, 
Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces around 

And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. 
Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the people, — 
25 "Let us bury him here by the sea. When a happier season 
Brings us again to our homes from the unknown land of our 


222 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the churchyard/^ 
Such were the words of the priest. And there in haste by the 

Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches, 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand-Pre. 
5 And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sorrow, 
Lo ! with a mournful sound like the voice of a vast congregation. 
Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the dirges. 
'Twas the returning tide, that afar from the waste of the ocean, 
With the first dawn of the day, came heaving and hurrying 
10 Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of embarking; 
And with the ebb of that tide the ships sailed out of the harbor, 
• Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the village in 


Many a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pre, 

When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed, 
IS Bearing a nation, with all its household goods, into exile. 

Exile without an end, and without an example in story. 

Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed; 

Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from 
the northeast 

Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of New- 
20 Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city. 

From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern savannas, — 

From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the Father 
of Waters 

Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to the ocean, 

Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth. 
25 Friends they sought and homes; and many, despairing, heart- 

Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a 

Evangeline 223 

Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the church- 

Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered, 

Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suflEering all things. 

Fair was she and young; but, alas! before her extended, 
S Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathway 

Marked by the graves of liiose who had sorrowed and suffered 
before her. 

Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned. 

As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked by 

Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the sun- 
10 Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfin- 
ished ; 

As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine, 

Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descended 

Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. 

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within 
15 Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit. 

She would commence again her endless search and endeavor ; 

Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and 

Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its 

He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him. 
20 Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper, 

Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward. 

Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and 
known him, 

But it was long ago, in some far-oflP place or forgotten. 

"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" said they; "Oh, yes! we have seen him. 
25 He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to the 
prairies ; 

CoureurS'des'bois are they, and famous hunters and trappers." 

'^Gabriel Lajeunesse !" said others ; "Oh, yes ! we have seen him. 

He is a voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana." 

224 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Then would they say, "Dear child I why dream and wait for him 
longer ? 

Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? others 

Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal? 

Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved thee 
5 Many a tedious year ; come, give him thy hand and be happy ! 

Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses/' 

Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, "I cannot ! 

Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and not 

For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the 
10 Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness." 

And thereupon the priest, her friend and father confessor. 

Said, with a smile, "0 daughter ! thy God thus speaketh within 

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted ; 

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning 
15 Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of 

That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the foun- 

Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy work of affec- 
tion ! 

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. 

Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made 
20 Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of 
heaven !" 

Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline labored and 

Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean. 

But with its sound there was mingled a voice that whispered, 
"Despair not !" 

Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless discom- 
25 Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of existence. 

Let me essay, Muse ! to follow the wanderer's footsteps ; — 

Evangeline 225 

Not through each devious path, each changeful year of existence; 
But as a traveler follows a streamlet's course through the valley : 
Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of its water 
Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only; 
5 Then drawing nearer its bank, through sylvan glooms that con- 
ceal it. 
Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous murmur; 
Happy, at length, if he find a spot where it reaches an outlet. 

' It was the month of May. Far down the Beautiful Biver, 
Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash, 
10 Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Mississippi, 
Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian boatmen. 
It was a band of exiles : a raft, as it were, from the shipwrecked 
Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together. 
Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a common mis- 
fortune ; 
15 Men and women and children, who, guided by hope or by hear- 
Sought for their kith and their kin among the few-acred farmers 
On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Opelousas. 
With them Evangeline went, and her guide, the Father Felician. 
Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness sombre with 
20 Day after day they glided adown the turbulent river; 
' Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped on its borders. 
Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, where plume- 
Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they swept with the 

Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sandbars 
25 Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves of their 
Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pelicans waded. 
Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of the river. 
Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant gardens, 
Stood the houses of planters, with negro cabins and dove-cots. 

Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

They were approaching the region where reigns perpetual sum- 

Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of orange and 

Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the eastward. 

They, too, swerved from their CQurse; and, entering the Bayou 
of Plaquemine, 
5 Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters. 

Which, like a network of steel, extended in every direction. 

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the 

Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in midair 

Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient cathedrals. 
10 Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save by the herons 

Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning at sunset, 

Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with demoniac laughter. 

Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the 

Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining the 
IS Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through chinks in 
a ruin. 

Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things around 

And o^er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder and sad- 
ness, — 

Strange forebodings of ill, unseen, and that cannot be com- 

As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the prairies, 
20 Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking mimosa. 
So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil, 
Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom has attained 

But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, that faintly 
Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on through the moon- 
25 It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of a 

Evangeline 227 

Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wandered before her. 
And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer and nearer. 

Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of the 

' And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradventure 
5 Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast on 

his bugle. 
Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the blast 

Breaking the seal of silence and giving tongues to the forest. 
Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to tiie 

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance, 
10 Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant branches ; 
But not a voice replied; no answer came from the darkness; 
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the 

Then Evangeline slept; but the boatmen rowed through the 

Silent at times, then. singing familiar Canadian boat-songs, 
15 Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers. 

And through the night were heard the mysterious sounds of 

the desert. 
Far oflE, — ^indistinct, — as of wave or wind in the forest. 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim 


Thus ere another noon they emerged from those shades; and 
before them 
20 Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya. 
Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulations 
Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotus 
Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. 
Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms, 
25 And with the heat of noon ; and numberless sylvan islands, 
Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges of 

228 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Near to whose shores they glided along^ invited to slumber. 
Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were suspended. 
Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the margin, 
Safely their boat was moored; and scattered about on the 

5 Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travelers slumbered. • 
Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar. 
Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and the 

Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob, 
On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending, 
10 Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom to 

' Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered beneath it. 
Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening 

Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial. 

Nearer and ever nearer, among the numberless islands, 
15 Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water. 
Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and trappers. 
Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison and 

At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful and 

Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a sadness 
20 Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written. 
Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and restless, 
Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of sorrow. 
Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the island, 
But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of palmettos; 
25 So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed in the 

willows ; 
And undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, were 

the sleepers; 
Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering maiden. 
Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the 


Evangeline 229 

After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the dis- 

As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the maiden 

Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, "0 Father Felician! 

Something says in my heart that near me Oabriel wanders. 
5 Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague superstition? 

Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my spirit?'' 

Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my credulous fancy I 

Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning/' 

But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled as he 
answered, — 
10 "Daughter, thy words are not idle ; nor are they to me without 

Feehng is deep and still ; and the word that floats on the sur- 

Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden. 

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illu- 
• sions. 

Gabriel truly is near thee; for not far away to the southward, 
15 On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur and St. 

There the long-wandering bride shall be given again to her 

There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheepfold. 

Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-trees ; 

Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens 
20 Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest. 

They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana.'* 

And with these words of cheer they arose and continued their 
Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon 
Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape; 
25 Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest 

Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together. 
Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver. 
Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water. 
Pilled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness. 

230 Ehon Grammar School Reader Bock Four 

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountain of feeling 

Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around 

Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of 

Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, 
5 Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, 

That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent 
to listen. 

Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then soaring to madness 

Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes. 

Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation ; 
10 Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision, 

As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-tops 

Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the 

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emo- 

Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the green 
IS And, through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland, 

Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring dwell- 

Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattle. 

Near to the bank of the river, overshadowed by oaks from 
whose branches 
Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted, 
20 Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at Yule-tide, 
Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. .A garden 
Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms. 
Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of timbers 
Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted together. 
25 Large and low was the roof ; and on slender columns supported, 
Eose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda, 
Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it. 
At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden. 

Evangeline 231 

Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual symbol. 
Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals. 
Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and sunshine 
Ban near the tops of the trees; but the bouse itself was in 

5 And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding 
Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose. 
In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a pathway 
Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limitless 

Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending. 
10 Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvas 
Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the 

Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grapevines. 

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of the prairie. 

Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and stirrups, 
15 Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin. 

Broad and brown was the face that from under the Spanish 

Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master. 

Bound about him were numberless herds of kine that were graz- 

Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness 
20 That uprose from the river, and spread itself over the land- 

Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding 

Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded 

Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of the 

Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cattle 
25 Eose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean. 

Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the 

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance. 

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate 
of the garden 

232 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing to 
meet him.' 

Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement^ and 

Eushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder; 

When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the black- 
S Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden. 

There in an arbor of roses with endless question and answer 

Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly 

Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and thought- 

Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not; and now dark doubts and 
10 Stole o'er the maiden's heart ; and Basil, somewhat embarrassed, 

Broke the silence and said, "If you came by the Atchafalaya, 

How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the 
bayous ?^ 

Over Evangeline^s face at the words of Basil a shade passed. 

Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent, 
IS "Gone? is Gabriel gone?" and, concealing her face on his 

All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and lamented. 

Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew blithe as he 
said it, — 

'^e of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he departed. 

Foolish boy I he has left me alone with my herds and my horses. 
20 Moody and restless grown, and tired and troubled, his spirit 

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence. 

Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever. 

Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles. 

He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens, 
25 Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent him 

Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards. 

Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Mountains, 

Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver. 

Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive lover; 

ine 233 

He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are 

against him. 
Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the 

We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison." 

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of the 
5 Borne aloft on his comrades* arms, came Michael the fiddler. 

Long under Basil's roof had he lived, like a god on Olympus, 

Having no other care than dispensing music to mortals. 

Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his fiddle. 

*^ng live Michael," they ci;ied, "our brave Acadian minstrel !" 
10 As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; and straightway 

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the old 

Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured, 

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips, 

Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters. 
IS Much they marveled to see the wealth of the ci-devant black- 

All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal demeanor; 

Much they marveled to hear his tales of the soil and the climate. 

And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were his who would 
take them; 

Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go and do 
20 Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy veranda. 

Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of 

Waited his late return; and they rested and feasted together. 

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended. 
All was silent without, and, illuming the landscape with silver, 
25 Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars; but within 
Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glimmer- 
ing lamplight. 

234 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, the herds- 

Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless pro- 

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches 

Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as they 
listened : — 
5 'Welcome once more, my friends^ who so long have been friend- 
less and homeless. 

Welcome once more to a home, that is better perchance than the 
old one! 

Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the rivers ; 

Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the farmer; 

Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil, as a keel 
through the water. 
10 All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom ; and ^ass 

More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer. 

Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the 

Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of timber 

With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed into houses. 
IS After your houses are built, and j'our fields are yellow with 

No King George of England shall drive you away from your 

Burning your dwellings and bams, and stealing your farms and 
your cattle.*^ 

Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his nos- 

And his huge, brawny hand came thundering down on the 
20 So that the guests all started ; and Father Felician, astounded. 

Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuflE half-way to his nostrils. 

But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were milder and 
gayer: — 

**Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of the fever ! 

Evangeline 235 

For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate. 
Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck in a nut- 
Then there were voices heard at the door, and footsteps approach- 
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy veranda. 
5 It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters, 
Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the herds- 
Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors: 
Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before were 

as strangers, 
Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each other, 
10 Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceeding 
From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle, 
Broke up all further speech. Away, like children delighted, 
All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to the mad- 
15 Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to the music. 
Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of fluttering gar- 

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the 
Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; 
While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her 
20 Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music 
Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness 
Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden. 
Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest. 
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river 
25 Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of 
the moonlight. 
Dike the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious 

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden 

236 Elsan Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and 

Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian. 

Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and 

Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moon- 
5 Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings, 

As, through the garden gate, beneath the brown shade of the oak- 

Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie. 

Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies 

Gleaming and floating away in mingled and inflnite numbers. 
10 Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens. 

Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and wor- 

Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple. 

As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, ^Tlpharsin." 

And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies, 
15 Wandered alone, and she cried, "0 Gabriel ! my beloved ! 

Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee? 

Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me ? 

Ah ! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie ! 

Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around 


20 Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor. 

Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slumbers ! 
When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee ?" 
Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded 
Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring 
25 Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence. 
'* Patience I" whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of dark- 
And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, "To-mor- 
row P 

Evangeline 237 

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the 

Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tresses 
With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal. 
^^Farewell !" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy thresh- 
5 ^-'See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and 

And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom 

was coming." 
"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil 

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were 

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and 

10 Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before 

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert. 
Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded. 
Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river, 
Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and 

15 Bumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate 

country ; 
Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes, 
Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous 

That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions, 
Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies. 


20 Far in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains 
Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous sum- 
Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like 
a gateway, 

238 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon. 

Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owyhee. 

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river Moun- 

Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska ; 
5 And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of the 

Numberless torrenta, with ceaseless sound, descend to the ocean. 

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solenm vibrations. 

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful 
10 Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine. 

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple amorphas. 

Over them wander the buffalo herds, and the elk and the roe- 

Over them wander the wolves, and herds of riderless horses ; 

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with 
travel ; 
IS Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's children. 

Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible war- 

Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture. 

Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle, 

By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens. 
20 Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage 
marauders ; 

Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift-running 
rivers ; 

And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the desert, 

Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the brook- 

And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven, 
25 Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them. 

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Mountains, 
Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind him. 
Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and Basil 

Evangeline 239 

Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to o'ertake him. 
Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke of his 

Rise in the morning air from the distant plain ; but at nightfall, 
When they had reached the place, they found only embers and 

5 And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies 
were weary, 
Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana 
Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and vanished 
before them. 

Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there silently entered 
Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose features 
10 Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great as her sorrow. 
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her people, 
From the far-off hunting grounds of the cruel Comanches, 
Where her Canadian husband, a coureur-des-bois, had been mur- 
' Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest and friend- 
liest welcome 
IS Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and feasted among 
On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the embers. 
But when their meal was done, and Basil and all his com- 
Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the deer and 

the bison. 
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where the quiver- 
ing fire-light 
20 Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms wrapped up in 
their blankets. 
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and repeated 
Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her Indian accent. 
All the t^e of her love, with its pleasures, and pains, and 

Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know that another 
25 Hapless heart like her own had loved and had been disappointed. 

240 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and woman's compas- 
^ sion, 

Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suffered was near 

She in turn related her love and all its disasters. 

Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had ended 
5 Still was mute; but at length, as if a mysterious horror 

Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated the tale of 
the Mowis; 

Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded a maiden. 

But, when the morning came, arose and passed from the wig- 

Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine, 
10 Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far into the 

Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like a weird incan- 

Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a 

That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in the hnsh of 
the twilight. 

Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the 
15 Till she followed his green and waving plume through the for- 

And nevermore returned, nor was seen again by her people. 

Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evangeline listened 

To the soft flow of her magical words, till the region around her 

Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest the 
20 Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the moon rose. 

Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious splendor 

Touching the sombre leaves, and embracing and filling the wood- 

With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the branches 

Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible whispers. 
35 Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's heart, bnt a 

Evangeline 241 

Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite terror, 
As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest of the swallow. 
It was no earthly fear. A breath from the region of spirits 
Seemed to float in the air of night ; and she felt for a moment 
5 That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing a phantom. 
And with this thought she slept, and the fear and the phantom 
had vanished. 

Early upon the morrow the march was resumed, and the 
Said, as they journeyed along, — "On the western slope of these 

Dwells in his little village the Black Bobe chief of the Mission. 
10 Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary and Jesus; 
Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with pain, as they 

hear him." 
Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evangeline answered, 
"Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings await us !" 
Thither they turned their steeds; and behind a spur of the 
15 Just as the sun went down, they heard a murmur of voices. 
And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank of a river. 
Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit Mission. 
Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village. 
Knelt the Black Eobe chief with his children. A crucifix fas- 
20 High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by grapevines. 
Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling be- 
neath it. 
This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the intricate arches 
Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers. 
Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of the 
25 Silent, with heads uncovered, the travelers, nearer approaching. 
Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening devotions. 
But when the service was done, and the benediction had fallen 
Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the hands 
of the sower. 

242 Elson Qrammar School Reader Book Four 

Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and bade 

Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benignant 

Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue in the forest, 

And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam 
5 There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of the 

Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd of the 

Soon was their story told; and the priest with solemnity an- 
swered : — 

"Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seated 

On this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes, 
10 Told me this same sad tale ; then arose and continued his jour- 
ney r 

Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an accent 
of kindness; 

But on Evangeline^s heart fell his words as in winter the snow- 

Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have departed. 

"Far to the north he has gone," continued the priest; "but in 
IS When the chase is done, will return again to the Mission." 

Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and submissive, 

"Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted." 

So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the mor- 

Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and com- 
20 Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mis- 
sion. . 

Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other, — 
Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were 

Green from the ground when a stranger she came, now waving 

about her. 

Evangeline 243 

Lifted their slender shafts^ with leaves interlacing, and form- 

Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by 

Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the 

Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover, 
5 But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the corn- 

Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover. 

"Patience!'^ the priest would say; "have faith, and thy prayer 
will be answered ! 

Look at this delicate plant that lifts its head from the meadow. 

See how its leaves all point to the north, as true as the magnet ; 
10 It is the compass^flower, that the finger of Qod has suspended 

Here on its fragile stalk to direct the traveler's journey 

Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert. 

Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of passion, 

Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of fragrance, 
15 But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly. 

Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter 

Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews of 

So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter — ^yet Gabriel 
came not; 
Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin and 
20 Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came not. 
But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was wafted 
Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom. 
Par to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests, 
Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River. 
25 And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St. Law- 
Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission. 
When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches, 

244 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests, 
Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin! 

Thus did the long sad years glide on^ and in seasons and 
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden; — 
5 Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions, 
Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the army, 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities. 
Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. 
Fair was she and yoimg, when in hope began the long journey; 
10 Faded^was she and old, when in disappointment it ended. 
Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty, 
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the 

Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o^er her 

Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly horizon, 
IS As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning. 


In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's 

Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle, 
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded. 
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of 

20 And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest, 
As if they fain would appease the Diyads whose haunts they 

There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile, 
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country. 
There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he departed, 
25 Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants. 

Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the city, 
Something that spake to her heart, and made her no longer a 

stranger ; 

Evangeline 245 

And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of the Quakers, 
For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country. 
Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and sisters. 
So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed endeavor, 

5 Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, uncomplaining, 
Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her thoughts and 

her footsteps. 
As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the morning 
Eoll away, and afar we behold the landscape below us. 
Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and hamlets, 

10 So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world far 
below her. 
Dark no longer, but all illumined with love ; and the pathway 
Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and fair in the dis- 
Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was his image. 
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she beheld him, 

15 Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and absence. 
Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was not. 
Over him years had no power; he was not changed, but trans- 
figured ; 
He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not absent ; 
Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others, 

20 This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught, her. 
So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous spices, 
Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with aroma. 
Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow, 
Meekly with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour. 

25 Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy ; frequenting 
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city, 
Where distress and want concealed themselves from the sunlight. 
Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. 
Night after night when the world was asleep, as the watchman 

30 Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well in the city, 
High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper. 
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the 

246 Elson Grammar School Reader Boole Four 

Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits for the 

Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its watchings. 

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the city. 
Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks of wild 

5 Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their craws 

but an acorn. 
And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of September, 
Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in the 

So death flooded life, and, overflowing its natural margin, 
Spread to a brackish lake the silver stream of existence. 
10 Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, the 

oppressor ; 
But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his anger; — 
Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends nor attendants. 
Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless. 
Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and wood- 
lands ; — 
IS Now the city surrounds it; but still, with its gateway and 

Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to echo 
Softly the words of the Lord : — ^*The poor ye always have with 

Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of Mercy. The 

Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold there 
20 Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendor, 
Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and apostles, 
Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance. 
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celestial. 
Into whose shining gates erelong their spirits would enter. 

25 Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, deserted and 
Wending hpr quiet way, she entered the door of the almshouse. 

Evangeline 247 

Sweet on the' summer air was the odor of flowers in the garden. 
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among them, . 
That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance and 

Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, cooled by the 
5 Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry of 
Christ Church, 
While, intermingled with these, across the meadows were wafted 
Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes in their church 

at Wicaco. 
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her spirit ; 
Something within her said, "At length thy trials are ended ;" 
10 And, with light in her looks, she entered the chambers of sick- 
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attendants, 
Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching brow, and in silence 
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing their faces. 
Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow by the road- 
15 Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, 

Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for her 

Fell on their hearts like a ray of the su^i on the walls of a 

And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler. 
Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever. 
20 Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night time; 
Vacant their places were, or filled already by strangers. 

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, 
Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while a shudder 
Ban through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets dropped 
from her fingers, 
25 And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the 
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish. 
That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows. 

248 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man. 
Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that shaded his temples ; 
But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood ; 
S So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying. 
Hot and red on his Kps still burned the flush of the fever. 
As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled its por- 
That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and pass over. 
Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit exhausted 
10 Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the dark- 
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking. 
Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverbera- 
Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that succeeded 
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saintlike, 
^5 "Gabriel ! my beloved !" and died away into fiilence. 

Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his child- 
hood ; 
Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them, 
Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under 

their shadow, 
As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision. 
20 Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids. 
Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bedside. 
Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered 
Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue 

would have spoken. 
Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him, 
25 Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. 

Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it suddenly sank into dark- 
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement. 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow. 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, 
30 All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience i 

Evangeline 249 

And^ as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, 
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank 

Still stands the forest primeval ; but far away from its shadow. 
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping. 
5 Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard, 
In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed. 
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them, 
Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and 

Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy, 
10 Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their 
Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their jour- 

Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its 
Dwells another race, with other customs and language. 
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic 
IS Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom. 
In the fisherman^s cot the wheel and the loom are still busy; 
Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of home- 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline^s story, 
20 While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. 


Historical: . The early history of Nova Scotia records the conflict 
for supremacy between the French and the English. By the French the 
country was called Acadie. The Acadians were essentially French in 
blood and in their sympathies, though the English were from time to 
time in authority over the country At one time the English demanded 


EUon Orammar School Reader Book Four 

an oath of allegiance from the Acadians. This they refused unless it 
should be so modified as to exempt them from bearing arms against 
Prance. It was finally decided to remove the Acadians from the coun- 
try, scattering them throughout the colonies in such a way as to prevent 
their concerted action in attempting to return to their homes. Accord- 
ingly they were driven on board the English transports and three thou- 
sand of them sent out of the country. In the confusion incident to their 
removal, families and friends were separated, in many cases never to 
meet again. The story of Evangeline is a recital of such separation. 

Notes and Questions 

Into what parts is the poem di- 

With what does Part Pirst deial? 
Part Second? 

What purpose do the introductory 
lines to Part First serve I 

Which lines give you the best pic- 
ture of Acadie? 

Which lines best describe the 
Acadians f 

Explain: ''There the richest was 
poor, and the poorest lived in 
abundance. ' ' 

What characteristics had Evan- 
geline? Find lines that tell you. 

What picture does the poem give 
you of the home of Evangeline? 

Who was Gabriel? 

Describe the visit of Basil and 

What were the characteristics of 
Father Leblanc? 

Which lines in Longfellow's de- 
dbription of the contract and the 
evening scene at the farmer's 
are the most beautiful? 

Describe the betrothal feast in 
your own words. 

What message did the voice of the 
thunder convey to Evangeline? 

Describe in your own words the 
embarkation, and the death of 
Evangeline's father. 

Note the devotioti of Evangeline 
as shown in her wanderings in 
search of Gabriel in the United 
States: The visit of Evangeline 
to the Acadian settlement in 
Louisiana, the southern home of 
Basil; Evangeline and Basil fol- 
low Gabriel to the West; Evan- 
geline as a Sister of Mercy in 
Philadelphia; Gabriel found dy- 
ing; The concluding stanza of 
the poem. 

Which of the above descriptions 
impressed you most? Which is 
most pathetic? Which do you 
like best? 

Trace the journeyings of Evan- 
geline on your map. 

Find the lines that describe the 
burning of Grand-Pr6. What 
can you say about this descrip- 

In this poem there are many beau- 
tiful descriptions. What kinds 
of scenery are described? What 
kinds of people are described? 

The Building of the Ship 


What had a life of sorrow taught 
Evangeline? Which lines tell 

What led her to devote herself to 
the service of others? 

What finally became her sole hope 

and wish? 
Why does this poem endure? Do 

you like it? Why? 
Which lines do you think are most 


Words and PhxaMs for Discussion 
**Thi8 is the forest primeval'* 
''Naught but tradition remains of Grand Pre" 
''List to a Tale of Love in Acadie^ home of the happy'* 
"Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven" 
* * Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard * * 
"Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's daughter 
Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the blacksmith" 



"Build me straight, worthy Master! 

Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, 
That shall laugh at all disaster, 

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle !" 



The merchant's word 

Delighted the Master heard; 

For his heart was in his work, and the heart 

Giveth grace unto every Art. 

A quiet smile played round his lips, 

As the eddies and dimples of the tide 

Play round the bows of ships, 

That steadily at anchor ride. 

And with a voice that was full of glee, 

He answered, "Ere long we will launch 

A vessel as goodly, and strong, and staunch. 

As ever weathered a wintrv sea !" 

262 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

And first with nicest skill and axt. 
Perfect and finished in every part, 
A little model the Master wrought, 

20 Which should be to the larger plan 

What the child is. to the man. 
Its counterpart in miniature; 
That with a hand more swift and sure 
The greater labor might be brought 

25 To answer to his inward thought. 

And as he labored his mind ran o'er 
The various ships that were built of yore. 
And above them all, and strangest of all. 
Towered the Great Harry, crank and tall, 

30 Whose picture was hanging on the wall. 

With bows and stern raised high in air. 
And balconies hanging here and there. 
And signal lanterns and fiags afioat. 
And eight round towers, like those that frown 

35 From some old castle^ looking down 

Upon the drawbridge and the moat, 
And he said, with a smile, "Our ship, I wis. 
Shall be of another form than this!'' 

It was of another form, indeed; 

40 Built for freight, and yet for speed, 

A beautiful and gallant craft ; 
Broad in the beam, that the stress of the blast. 
Pressing down upon sail and mast. 
Might not the sharp bows overwhelm; 

45 Broad in the beam, but sloping aft 

With graceful curve and slow degrees. 
That she might be docile to the helm. 
And that the currents of parted seas. 
Closing behind, with mighty force, 

50 Might aid and not impede her course. 

In the ship-yard stood the Master, 
With the model of the vessel. 

The Building of the Ship 253 

That should laugh at all disaster, 
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle! 

55 Covering many a rood of ground. 

Lay the timber piled around; 
Timber of chestnut, and elm, and oak, 
And scattered here and there, with these. 
The* knarred and crooked cedar knees ; 

60 Brought from regions far away. 

From Pascagoula's sunny bay. 
And the banks of the roaring Boanoke ! 
Ah! what a wondrous thing it is 
To note how many wheels of toil 

65 One thought, one word, can set in motion! 

There's not a ship that sails the ocean, 
But every climate, every soil. 
Must bring its tribute, great or small. 

And help to build the wooden wall ! 

70 The sun was rising o'er the sea. 

And long the level shadows lay. 
As if they, too, the beams would be 
Of some great, airy argosy. 
Framed and launched in a single day, 

75 That silent architect, the sun. 

Had hewn and laid them every one, 
Ere the work of man was yet begun. 
Beside the Master, when he spoke, 
A youth, against an anchor leaning, 

80 Listened, to catch his slightest 'meaning. 

Only the long waves, as they broke 
In ripples on the pebbly beach, 
Interrupted the old man's speech. 

Beautiful they were, in sooth, 
85 The old man and the fiery youth! 

The old man, in whose busy brain 

2^ Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Many a ship that sailed the main 
Was modelled o'er and o'er again; — 
The fiery youth, who was to be 
90 The heir of his dexterity. 

The heir of his house, and his daughter's hand^ 
When he had built and launched from land 
What the elder head had planned. 

"Thus," said he, "will we build this ship ! 
dS Lay square the blocks upon Ihe slip. 

And follow well this plan of mine. 

Choose the timbers with greatest care ; 

Of all that is luisound beware ; 

For only what is sound and strong 
100 To this vessel shall belong. 

Cedar of Maine and Georgia^pine 

Here together shall combine. 

A goodly frame, and a goodly fame. 

And the Union be her name ! 
105 For the day that gives her to the sea 

Shall give my daughter unto thee !'^ 

The Master's word 

Enraptured the young man heard ; 

And as he turned his face aside, 
110 With a look of joy and a thrill of pride. 

Standing before 

Her father's door. 

He saw the form of his promised bride. 

The sun shone on her golden hair, . 
115 And her cheek was glowing fresh and' fair, 

With the breath of mom and the soft sea air. 

Like a beauteous barge was she. 

Still at rest on the sandy beach, 

Just beyond the billow's reach; 
120 But he 

Was the restless, seething, stormy sea! 

The Building of the Ship ^455 

Ah, how akilful grows the hand 
That obeyeth Lovers command! 
It is the heart, and not the brain, 
125 • That to the highest doth attain. 

And he who followeth Love's behest 
Far exceedeth all the rest I 

Thus with the rising of the sun 
Was the noble task begun, 

130 And soon throughout the ship-yard's bounds 

Were heard the intermingled sounds 
Of axes and of mallets, plied 
With vigorous arms on every side; 
Plied so deftly and so well, 

135 That, ere the shadows of evening fell. 

The keel of oak for a noble ship, 
Scarfed and bolted, straight and strong. 
Was lying ready, and stretched along 
The blocks, well placed upon the slip. 

140 Happy, thrice happy, every one 

,Who sees his labor well begun. 
And not perplexed and multiplied, 
By idly waiting for time and tide ! 
' And when the hot, long day was o'er, 

145 The young man at the Master's door 

Sat with the maiden calm and still. 
And within the porch, a little more 
Bemoved beyond the evening chill. 
The father sat, and told them tales 

150 Of wrecks in the great September gales. 

Of pirates upon the Spanish Main, 
And ships that never came back again, 
The chance and change of a sailor's life. 
Want and plenty, rest and strife, 

155 His roving fancy, like the wind. 

That nothing can stay and nothing can bind. 
And the magic charm of foreign lands. 
With shadows of palms, and shining sands. 

256 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Where the tumbling surf, 

160 O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar, 

Washes the feet of the swarthy Lascar, 
As he lies alone and asleep on the turf. 
And the trembling maiden held her breath 
At the tales of that awful, pitiless sea, 

165 With all its terror and mystery, 

The dim dark sea, so like imto Death, 
That divides and yet unites mankind ! 
And whenever the old man paused, a gleam 
From the bowl of his pipe would awhile illume 

170 The silent group in the twilight gloom. 

And thoughtful faces, as in a dream ; 
And for a moment one might mark 
What had been hidden by the dark. 
That the head of the maiden lay at rest 

175 Tenderly, on the young man's breast ! 

Day by day the vessel grew. 
With timbers fashioned strong and true, 
Stemson and keelson and stemson-knee. 
Till, framed with perfect symmetry, 

180 A skeleton ship rose up to view ! 

And around the bows and along the side 
The heavy hammers and mallets plied. 
Till after many a week, at length. 
Wonderful for form and strength, 

185 Sublime in its enormous bulk. 

Loomed aloft the shadowy hulk! 
And around it columns of smoke, upwreathing, 
Bose from the boiling, bubbling, seething. 
Cauldron, that glowed, 

190 And overflowed 

With the black tar, heated for the sheathing. 

And amid the clamors 

Of clattering hammers. 

He who listened heard now and then 

195 The song of the Master and his men : — 

The Building of the Ship 857 

"Build me straight, worthy Master, 
Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, 

That shall laugh at all disaster, 
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle !" 

200 With oaken brace and copper band. 

Lay the rudder on the sand, 

That, like a thought, should have control 

Over the movement of the whole ; 

And near it the anchor, whose giant hand 
205 Would reach down and grapple with the land. 

And immovable and fast 

Hold the great ship against the bellowing blast ! 

And at the bows an image stood. 

By a cunning artist carved in wood, 
210 With robes of white, that far behind 

Seemed to be fluttering in the wind. 

It was not shaped in a classic mould. 

Not like a Xymph or Goddess of old. 

Or Naiad rising from the water, 
215 But modeled from the Master's daughter. 

On many a dreary and misty night, 

^T wili be seen by the rays of the signal light. 
Speeding along through the rain and the dark,. 

Like a ghost in its snow-white sark, 
220 The pilot of some phantom bark. 

Guiding the vessel, in its flight. 

By a path none other knows aright ! 

Behold^ at last, 

Each tall and tapering mast 
225 Is swung into its place; 

Shrouds and stays 

Holding it firm and fasti 

Long age, 

In the deer-haunted forests of Maine, 
230 When upon mountain and plain 

258 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Lay the snow, 

They fell, — those lordly pines! 
Those grand, majestic pines ! 
*Mid shouts and cheers 

235 The jaded steers, 

Panting beneath the goad, 
Dragged down the weary, winding road 
Those captive kings so straight and tall. 
To be shorn of their streaming hair, 

240 And, naked and bare, 

To feel the stress and the strain 
Of the wind and the reeling main. 
Whose roar 
Would remind them for evermore 

245 Of their native forests they should not see again. 

And everywhere 

The slender, graceful spars 

Poise aloft in the air. 

And at the mast-head, 
250 White, blue, and red, 

A flag unrolls the Sti'ipes and Stars. 

Ah ! when the wanderer, lonelyj friendless. 

In foreign harbors shall behold 

That flag unrolled, 
255 ^Twill be as a friendly hand 

Stretched out from his native land, 

Filling his heart with memories sweet and endless ! 

All is finished ! and at length 

Has come the bridal day 
260 Of beauty and of strength. 

To-day the vessel shall be launched ! 

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched. 

And o'er the bay, 

Slowly, in all his splendors dight, 
265 The great sun rises to behold tlie sight. 

The Building of the Ship 269 

The ocean old, 

Centuries old. 

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled. 

Paces restless to and fro, 
270 Up and down the sands of gold. 

His beating heart is not at rest; 

And far and wide, 

With ceaseless flow. 

His beard of snow 
275 Heaves with the heaving of his breast. 

He waits impatient for his bride. 
There she stands, 
With her foot upon the sands. 
Decked with flags and streamers gay, 
280 In honor of her marriage day, 

Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, 
Eound her like a veil descending, 
Beady to be 
The bride of the gray old sea. 

285 On the deck another bride 

Is standing by her lover's side. 

Shadows from the flags and shrouds. 

Like the shadows cast by clouds. 

Broken by many a sunny fleck, 
290 Fall around them on the deck. 

The prayer is said. 

The service read. 

The joyous bridegroom bows his head ; 

And in tears the good old Master 
295 Shakes the brown hand of his son. 

Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek 

In silence, for he cannot speak, 

And ever faster 

Down his own the tears begin to run. 
300 The worthy pastor — 

260 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

The shepherd of that wandering flock. 
That has the ocean for its wold, 
That has the vessel for its fold. 
Leaping ever from rock to rock — 

305 , Spake, with accents mild and clear, 

Words of warning, words of cheer. 
But tedious to the bridegroom's ear. 
He knew the chart 
Of the sailor's heart, 

310 All its pleasures and its griefs. 

All its shallows and rocky reefs. 
All those secret currents, that flow 
With such resistless undertow. 
And lift and drift, with terrible force, 

315 The will from its moorings and its course. 

Therefore he spake, and thus said he : — 
"Like unto ships far off at sea. 
Outward or homeward bound, are we, 
Before, behind, and all around, 

320 Floats and swings the horizon's bound. 

Seems at its distant rim to rise 
And climb the crystal wall of the skies, 
And then again to turn and sink, 
As if we could slide from its outer brink. 

325 Ah! it is not the sea. 

It is not the sea that sinks and shelves. 

But ourselves 

That rock and rise 

With endless and uneasy motion, 

330 Now touching the very skies, 

Now sinking into the depths of ocean. 
Ah ! if our souls but poise and swing 
Like the compass in its brazen ring, 
Ever level and ever true 

335 To the toil and the task we have to do. 

We shall sail securely, and safely reach 
The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach 

The Building of the Ship 261 

The sights we see, and the sounds we hear. 
Will be those of joy and not of fear !" 

340 Then the Master, 

With a gesture of command. 

Waved his hand; 

And at the word. 

Loud and sudden there was heard, 
345 All around them and below, 

The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 

Knocking away the shores and spurs. 

And see! she stirs 1 

She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel 
350 The thrill of life along her keel. 

And, spuming with her foot the ground* 

With one exulting, joyous bound, 

She leaps into the ocean's arms! 

And lo! from the assembled crowd 
355 There rose a shout, prolonged and loud. 

That to the ocean seemed to say, 
"Take her. Oh bridegroom, old and gray. 
Take her to thy protecting arms. 
With all her youth and all her charms !" 

360 How beautiful she is ! How fair 

She lies within those arms, that press 
Her form with many a soft caress 
Of tenderness and watchful care! 
Sail forth into the sea, ship! 

365 Through wind and wave, right onward steer 1 

The moistened eye, the trembling lip. 
Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 

Sail forth into the sea of life, 
gentle, loving, trusting wife, 
370 And safe from all adversity 

Upon the bosom of that sea 

262 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Thy comings and thy goings be ! * 

For gentleness and love and trust 
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust; 
375 And in the wreck of noble lives 

Something immortal still survives! 

Thou, too, sail on, Ship of State ! 

Sail on, Union, strong and great ! 

Humanity with all its fears, 
380 With all the hopes of future years, 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 

We know what Master laid thy keel. 

What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, ' 

Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
3as What anvils rang, what hammers beat, i 

In what a forge and what a heat ' 

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! i 

Fear not eaich sudden sound and shock, ; 

'T is of the wave and not the rock ; 
390 'T is but the flapping of the sail, j 

And not a rent made by the gale! 

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, | 

In spite of false lights on the shore. 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! I 

385 Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, ' 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, I 

Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 

Notes and QuestiODs 

Qu\no the lines tbat tell the kuul What does Longfellow say that 

ot* s^hip the Master is ti> InuKt 

What comJv^ris^ul ^Uvs the Master 

use itt s^vakin^ of the moileH 

one thought can do? 
Explain lines S4 to 93. 
Aev*ount for the name given the 

ship by the Master. 

John Greenleaf Whittier 


Describe the daughter in your own 


'*It is the heart, and not the 

That to the highest doth attain. ' ' 
Quote the song of the Master and 

his men. 
What uses are assigned to each of 

the following: **the rudder,** 

'Hhe anchor,'* '*the image at 

the bows.** 
Read the description of *' those 

lordly pines.** 
What does Longfellow say the flag 

of the ship will be to the wan- 
derer ? 

Longfellow comments on the mar- 
riage of the ship with the sea. 
Explain the figure of speech. 

Memorize the pastor *s words. 

Describe the launching in your own 

Have you ever seen a ship 
launched ? 

What does the building of the 
ship symbolize f 

Memorize the apostrophe to the 
ship of state and explain the 
symbol in detail. 

Find examples of alliteration. 

Words and Fhrases for DlsciUMion 
'airy argosy** '^heir of his dexterity" ''slip** ** scarfed*' 
'Like a beauteous barge was she** '*moat** ''knarred** 


The year 1807 was the birth year of both Whittier and Long- 
fellow — two poets in whom the love of human nature is a marked 
trait. Little of the scholar, however, is to be found in the New 
England Quaker whose lot it was to pass from plow to polities, 
and from politics to literature. John Greenleaf Whittier was born 
in East Haverhill, a rugged, hilly section of Essex County, Massa- 
chusetts. In the southern part of this same county lies Salem, 
where three years earlier Hawthorne was bom. 

The home of Whittier was in a country district, and to this day 
no roof is in sight from the old homestead. The house, consider- 
ably more than a hundred years old at the time of the poet's birth, 
was built by his great-great-grandfather. The Whittiers were 
mostly stalwart men, six feet in height, who lived out their three- 

'264 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

score years and ten ; but the poet, though his years were more than 
any of his immediate ancestors, fell a little short of the family 
stature, and was of slender frame. "Snow-bound'^ gives us a faith- 
ful picture of the Whittier homestead and household, as they were 
eighty years ago. 

The life they lived there was one utterly without luxury, and 
with few means of culture. There were perhaps thirty books in the 
house, largely Quaker tracts and journals. Of course there was the 
Bible, and through all his poetry Whittier reverts to the Bible for 
phrases and images as naturally as Longfellow turns to medi- 
aval legend. Memorable were the evenings when the school teacher 
came and read to the family from books he brought with him,— 
one most memorable, when the book was a copy of Bums. On 
Whittier^s first visit to Boston, an occasion honored by his wearing 
**boughten buttons'' on his homespun coat, and a broad-brim liat 
made by his aunt out of pasteboard covered with drab velvet, he 
purchased ^a copy of Shakespeare. 

He attended the district school a few weeks each winter, and 
when he was nineteen he completed his scant}' education with a 
year at an academy at Haverhill. From the time when the reading 
of Bums woke the poet in him, he was constantly writing rhymes. 
covering his slate with them, and sometimes copying them out 
painstakingly on paper. 

Without Whittiers knowledge, his sister sent one of his poems 
to a paper in a neighboring town. The Editor became interested 
in his contributor and, as the story goes, drove out to the country 
home and Whittier was called in from the field to meet the smart 
young newspaper man. Thus began his literary career. 

He became an Editor in Boston and later in Hartford, but the 
work proving too trying for his delicate health, he retumed to the 
farm. Jfeanwhile, he was contributing verse to the newspapers. 

During this time he was elected to the L^lature of Massa- 
chusetts and had some prospects of being nominated for Congress. 

Later in life he retumod again and again to the purely lyrical 
notes which he had taken up in his youth. 

Snow-Bound 265 

Two subjects always appealed strongly to Whitter's poetic 
imagination. One is the slender body of legendary lore that has 
come down to us from the colonial days of New England, in- 
cluding a few tales of the trials and persecutions of the early 
Quaker. "Skipper Ireson's Eide" belongs to this group of ballads. 
The other favorite field of Whittier's poetic fancy was the humble 
rural life of his own childhood — "In School-Days'* and "Snow- 
Bound" belong to this class of New England idyls. The latter 
will always be a favorite with American readers, both for its simple 
rustic pictures, and for its deep religious faith. 

Whittier never married. The little romances of his youth slipped 
qnietly into memories, and imparted a finer tone to the poetry of 
his maturer years. He died at Hampton Falls, New Hampshire, in 
the eighty-fifth year of his age. Holmes was the only one of the 
New England singers left to mourn his departure : 

"Best loved and saintliest of our singing train, 
Earth's noblest tributes to thy name belong. 
A lifelong record closed without a stain, 
A blameless memory shrined in deathless song.'* 



The Sun that brief December day 
Bose cheerless over hills of gray, 
And, darkly circled, gave at noon 
A sadder light than waning moon. 
5 Slow tracing down the thickening sky 

Its mute and ominous prophecy, 
A portent seeming less than threat. 
It sank from sight before it set. 
A chill no coat, however stout, 
10 Of homespun stuff could quite shut out. 

266 Elson Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

A hard, dull bitterness of cold, 
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race 
Of life-blood in the sharpened face. 
The coming of the snow-storm told. 
IS The wind blew east; we heard the roar 

Of Ocean on his wintry shore, 
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there 
Beat with low rhythm our inland air. 

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, — 

20 Brought in the wood from out of doors, 

Littered the stalls, and from the mows 
Eaked down the herdVgrass for the cows: 
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; 
And, sharply clashing horn on horn, 

25 Impatient down the stanchion rows 

The cattle shake their walnut bows ; 
While, peering from his early perch 
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch. 
The cock his crested helmet bent 

30 And down Kis querulous challenge sent. 

Unwarmed by any sunset light 
The gray day darkened into night, 
A night made hoary with the swarm 
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, 

35 As zigzag wavering to and fro 

Crossed and recrossed the winged snow: 
And ere the early bedtime came 
The white drift piled the window-frame, 
And through the glass the clothes-line posts 

40 Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. 

So all night long the storm roared on: 
The morning broke without a sun ; 
In tiny spherule traced with lines 
Of Nature's geometric signs, 

45 In starry flake and pellicle 

All day the hoary meteor fell; 

And, when the second morning shone. 

Snow-Bound 267 

We looked upon a world unknown. 

On nothing we could call our own. . 
50 Around the glistening wonder bent 

The blue walls of the firmament, 

No cloud above, no earth below, — 

A universe of sky and snow ! 

The old familiar sights of ours 
55 Took marvelous shapes; strange domes and towers 

Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood, 

Or garden- wall or belt of wood ; 

A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, 

A fenceless drift what once was road; 
^ The bridle-post an old man sat 

With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; 

The well-curb had a Chinese roof ; 

And even the long sweep, high aloof. 

In its slant splendor, seemed to tell 
65 Of Pisa's leaning miracle. 

A prompt, decisive man, no breath 

Our father wasted : "Boys, a path !" 

Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy 

Count such a summons less than joy?) 
70 Our buskins on our feet we drew ; 

With mittened hands, and caps drawn low, 
To guard our necks and ears from snow. 

We cut the solid whiteness through; 

And, where the drift was deepest, made 
75 A tunnel walled and overlaid 

With dazzling crystal: we had read 

Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave, 

And to our own his name we gave. 

With many a wish the luck were ours 
^ To test his lamp's supernal powers. 

We reached the barn with merry din, 

And roused the prisoned brutes within. 

The old horse thrust his long head out, 

And grave with wonder gazed about; 

268 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

85 The cock his lusty greeting said. 

And forth his speckled harem led; 
The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked. 
And mild reproach of hunger looked; 
The horned patriarch of the sheep, 

90 Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep, 

Shook his sage head with gesture mute. 
And emphasized with stamp of foot. 

All day the gusty north-wind bore 
The loosened drift its breath before; 

95 I^ow circling round its southern zone, 

The sun through dazzling snow-mist ghone. 
No church-bell lent its Christian tone 
To the savage air, no social smoke 
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. 

100 A solitude made more intense 

By dreary-voicdd elements, 
The shrieking of the mindless wind. 
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind. 
And on the glass the unmeaning beat 

105 Of ghostly jSnger-tips of sleet. 

Beyond the circle of our hearth 
No welcome sound of toil or mirth 
Unbound the spell, and testified 
Of human life and thought outside.* 

110 We minded that the sharpest ear 

The buried brooklet could not hear. 
The music of whose liquid lip 
Had been to us companionship. 
And, in our lonely life, had grown 

115 To Ijave an almost human tone. 

As night drew on, and, from the crest 
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, 
The sun, a snow-blown traveler, sank 
From sight beneath the smothering bank, 
120 We piled with care our nightly stack 

Snow-Bound 269 

Of wood against the chimney-back, — 

The oaken log, green, huge, and thick. 

And on its top the stout back-stick; 

The knotty forestick laid apart, 
125 And filled between with curious art 

The ragged brush; then, hovering near. 

We watched the first red blaze appear. 

Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam 

On whitewashed wall and sagging beam, 
130 Until the old, rude-furnished room 

Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom; 

While radiant with a mimic flame 

Outside the sparkling drift became 

And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree 
135 Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free. 

The crane and pendent trammels showed. 

The Turk's heads on the andirons glowed ; 

While childish fancy, prompt to tell 

The meaning of the miracle, 
140 Whispered the old rhyme : "Under the tree. 

When fire outdoors burns merrily. 

There the witches are making tea." 

The moon above the eastern wood 

Shone at its full; the hill-range stood 
145 Transfigured in the silver flood, 

Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, 

Dead white, save where some sharp ravine 

Took shadow, or the sombre ^reen 

Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black 
150 Against the whiteness of their bhck. 

For such a world and such a night 

Most fitting that unwarming light, 

Which only seemed where'er it fell 

To make the coldness visible. 

155 Shut in from all the world without. 

We sat the clean-winged hearth about. 

270 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Content to let the north-wind roar 
In baf9ed rage at pane and door. 
While the red logs before us beat 

leo The frost-line back with tropic heat; 

And ever, when a louder blast 
Shook beam and rafter as it passed, 
The merrier up its roaring draught 
The great throat of the chimney laughed, 

165 The house-dog on his paws outspread 

Laid to the fire his drowsy head. 
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall 
A couchant tiger's seemed to fall ; 
And, for the winter fireside meet, 

170 Between the andirons' straddling feet. 

The mug of cider simmered slow. 
The apples sputtered in a row. 
And, close at hand, the basket stood 
With nuts from brown October's wood. 

175 What matter how the night behaved? 

What matter how the north-wind raved? 

Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 

Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. 

Time and Change ! — ^with hair as gray 
180 As was my sire's that winter day. 

How strange it seems, with so much gone 

Of life and love, to still live on ! 

Ah, brother ! only I and thou 

Are left of all that circle now, — 
185 The dear home faces whereupon 

That fitful firelight paled and shone. 

•Henceforward, listen as we will. 

The voices of that hearth are still ; 

Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, 
190 Those lighted faces smile no more. 

We tread the paths their feet have worn, 
We sit beneath their orchard trees. 
We hear, like them, the hum of bees 

8now-Bound 271 

And rustle of the bladed com; 
195 , We turn the pages that they read, 

Their written words we linger o'er, • 
But in the sun they cast no shade, 
No voice is heard, no sign is made, 
No step is on the conscious floor ! 
200 * Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust 

(Since He who knows our need is just) 
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. 
Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees ! 
205 Who, hopeless, lays his dead away. 

Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play ! 
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith. 
The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
210 That Life is ever lord of Death, 

And Love can never lose its own ! 

We sped the time with stories old, 

Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told. 

Or stammered from our school-book lore 
215 "The chief of Gambia's golden shore/' 

Our father rode again his ride 

On Memphremagog's wooded side; 

Sat down again to moose and samp 

In trapper's hut and Indian camp; 
220 Lived o'er the old idyllic ease 

Beneath St. Frangois' hemlock trees; 

Again for him the moonlight shone 

On Norman cap and bodiced zone; 

Again he heard the violin play 
225 Which led the village dance away. 

And mingled in its merry whirl 

The grandam and the laughing girl. 

Or, nearer home, our steps he led 

Where Salisbury's level marshes spread 

272 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

230 Mile-wide as flies the laden bee; 

Where merry mowers, hale and strong, 
Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along 

The low green prairies of the sea. 
We shared the fishing off Boards Head, 

235 And round the rocky Isles of Shoals 

The hake-broil on the driftwood coals; 
The chowder on the sand-beach made. 
Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot, 
With spoons of clam-shell from the pot. 

240 We heard the tales of witchcraft old. 

And dream and sign and marvel told 
To sleepy listeners as they lay 
Stretched idly on the salted hay. 
Adrift along the winding shores, 

245 When favoring breezes deigned to blow 

The square sail of the gundalow. 
And idle lay the useless oars. 
Our mother, while she turned her wheel 
Or run the new-knit stocking-heel, 

250 Told how the Indian hordes came down 

At midnight on Cochecho town. 
And how her own great-uncle bore 
His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore. 
Eecalling, in her fitting phrase, 

255 So rich and picturesque and free 

(The common unrhymed poetry 
Of simple life and country ways). 
The story of her early days, — 
She made us welcome to her home ; 

260 Old hearths grew wide to give us room; 

We stole with her a frightened look 
At the gray wizard's conjuring-book, 
The fame whereof went far and wide 
Through all the simple country-side; 

265 We heard the hawks at twilight play. 

The boat-horn on Piscataqua, 
The loon's weird laughter far away ; 

Snow-Bound 273 

We fished her little trout-brook, knew 

What flowers in wood and meadow grew, 
270 What sunny hillsides autumn-brown 

She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down. 

Saw where in sheltered cove and bay 

The ducks' black squadron anchored lay. 

And heard the wild geese calling loud 
275 Beneath the gray November cloud. 

Then, haply, with a look more grave. 

And soberer tone, some tale she gave 

From painful SeweFs ancient tome. 

Beloved in every Quaker home, 
280 Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, 

Or Chalkley^s Journal, old and quaint, — 

Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint ! — 

Who, when the dreary calms prevailed, 

And water-butt and bread-cask failed, 
285 And cruel, hungry eyes pursued 

His portly presence, mad for food, 

With dark hints muttered under breath 

Of casting lots for life or death, 

Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies, 
290 To be himself the sacrifice. 

Then, suddenly, as if to save 

The good man from his living grave, 

A ripple on the water grew, 

A school of porpoise flashed in view. 
295 "Take, eat," he said, "and be content; 

These fishes in my stead are sent 

By Him who gave the tangled ram 

To spare the child of Abraham." 

Our uncle, innocent of books, 
300 Was rich in lore of fields and brooks. 

The ancient teachers never dumb 
Of Nature's unhoused lyceum. 
In moons and tides and weather wise. 
He read the clouds as prophecies. 

274 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four I 

305 And foul or fair could well divine, 

By many an occult hint and sign, 

Holding the cunning-warded keys 

To all the woodcraft mysteries; 

Himself to Nature's heart so near 
310 That all her voices in his ear 

Of heast or bird had meanings clear. 

Like ApoUoniufl of old. 

Who knew the tales the sparrows told. 

Or Hermes, who interpreted 
315 What the sage cranes of Nilus said ; 

A simple, guileless, childlike man. 

Content to live where life began; 

Strong only on his native grounds. 

The little world of sights and sounds 
320 Whose girdle was the parish bounds. 

Whereof his fondly partial pride 

The common features magnified. 

As Surrey hills to mountains grew 

In White of Selborne's loving view, — 
325 He told how teal and loon he shot. 

And how the eagle's eggs he got. 

The feats on pond and river done. 

The prodigies of rod and gun ; 

Till, warming with the tales he told, 
330 Forgotten was the outside cold. 

The bitter wind unheeded blew, 

From ripening com the pigeons flew. 

The partridge drummed i' the wood, the mink 

Went fishing down the river-brink. 
335 In fields with bean or clover gay. 

The woodchuck, like a hermit gray. 
Peered from the doorway of his cell ; 

The muskrat plied the mason's trade. 

And tier by tier his mud-walls laid ; 
340 And from the shagbark overhead 

The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell. 

Snow'Bound 375 

Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer 
And voice in dreams I see and hear, — 
The sweetest woman ever Fate 

345 Perverse denied a household mate, 

Who, lonely, homeless, not the less 
Found peace in love's unselfishness. 
And welcome whereso'er she went, 
A calm and gracious element, 

350 Whose presence seemed the sweet income 

And womanly atmosphere of home, — 
Called up her girlhood memories, 
The huskings and the apple-bees, 
The sleigh-rides and the summer sails, 

355 Weaving through all the poor details 

And homespun warp of circumstance 
A golden woof-thread of romance. 
For well she kept her genial mood 
And simple faith of maidenhood; 

360 Before her still a cloud-land lay, 

The mirage loomed across her way ; 
The morning dew, that dried so soon 
With others, glistened at her noon ; 
Through years of toil and soil and care, 

365 From glossy tress to thin gray hair. 

All unprofaned she held apart 
The virgin fancies of the heart. 
Se shame to him of woman born 
Who had for such but thought of scorn. 

370 There, too, our elder sister plied 

Her evening task the stand beside ; 
A full, rich nature, free to trust. 
Truthful and almost sternly just. 
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, 

375 And make her generous thought a fact. 

Keeping with many a light disguise 
The secret of self-sacrifice. 
heart sore-tried ! thou hast the best 

276 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

That Heaven itself could give thee, — rest, 
380 Best from all bitter thoughts and things ! 

How many a poor one's blessing went 
With thee beneath the low green tent 

Whose curtain never outward swings ! 

As one who held herself a part 

385 Of all she saw, and let her heart 

Against the household bosom lean. 
Upon the motley-braided mat 
Our youngest and our dearest sat, 
Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes, 

390 Now bathed within the fadeless green 

And holy peace of Paradise. 
Oh, looking from some heavenly hill. 
Or from the shade of saintly palms. 
Or silver reach of river calms, 

395 Do those large eyes behold me still ? 

With me one little year ago : — 
The chill weight of the ^winter snow 

For months upon her grave has lain; 
And now, when summer south-winds blow 

400 And brier and harebell bloom again, 

I tread the pleasant paths we trod, 
I see the violet-sprinkled sod, 
Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak 
The hillside flowers she loved to seek, 

405 Yet following me where'er I went 

With dark eyes full of love's content. 
The birds are glad ; the brier-rose fills 
The air with sweetness ; all the hills 
Stretch green to June^s unclouded sky ; 

410 But still I wait with ear and eye 

For something gone which should be nigh, 
A loss in all familiar things, 
In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. 
And yet, dear heart ! remembering thee, 

415 Am I not richer than of old? 

Snow-Bound 277 

Safe in thy immortality, 

What change can reach the wealth I hold ? 

What chance «can mar the pearl and gold 
Thy love hath left in trust with me? 
420 And while in life's late afternoon, 

Where cool and long the shadows grow, 
I walk to meet the night that soon 

Shall shape and shadow overflow, 
I cannot feel that thou art far, 
425 Since near at need the angels are; 

And when the sunset gates unbar, 

Shall I not see thee waiting stand, 
And, white against the evening star. 

The welcome of thy beckoning hand ? 

430 Brisk wielder of the birch and rule, 

The master of the district school 

Held at the fire his favored place ; 

Its warm glow lit a laughiiig face 

Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared 
435 The uncertain prophecy of beard. 

He teased the mitten-blinded cat. 

Played cross-pins on my uncle's hat. 

Sang songs, and told us what befalls 

In classic Dartmouth's college halls. 
440 Bom the wild Northern hills among. 

From whence his yeoman father wrung 

By patient toil subsistence scant, 

Not competence and yet not want. 

He early gained the power to pay 
445 His cheerful, self-reliant way; 

Could doflf at ease his scholar's gown 

To peddle wares from town to town ; 

Or through the long vacation's reach 

In lonely lowland districts teach, 
450 Where all the droll experience found 

At stranger hearths in boarding round. 

The moonlit skater's keen delight, 

278 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

The sleigh-drive through the frosty night, 
The rustic party, with its rough 

455 Accompaniment of blind-mpn's-buff, 

And whirling plate, and forfeits paid. 
His winter task a pastime made. 
Happy the snow-locked homes wherein 
He tuned his merry violin, 

460 Or played the athlete in the barn, 

Or held the good dame's winding yam. 
Or mirth-provoking versions told 
Of classic legends rare and old, 
Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome 

465 Had all the commonplace of home, 

And little seemed at best the odds 
'Twixt Yankee peddlers and old gods; 
Where Pindus-born Arachthus took 
The guise of any grist-mill brook, 

470 And dread Olympus at his will 

Became a huckleberry hill. 
A careless boy that night he seemed; 

But at his desk he had the look 
And air of one who wisely schemed, 

475 And hostage from the future took 

In trained thought and lore of book. 
Another guest that winter night 
Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light. 
Unmarked by time, and yet not young, 

480 The honeyed music of her tongue 

And words of meekness scarcely told 
A nature passionate and bold, 
Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide. 
Its milder features dwarfed beside 

485 Her unbent will's majestic pride. 

She sat among us, at the best, 
A not unfeared, half-welcome guest, 
Rebuking with her cultured phrase 
Our homeliness of words and ways. 

490 A certain pard-like, treacherous grace 

SnoW'Bound 27d 

Swayed the lithe limbs and dropped the lash, 
Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash; 
And under low brows, black with night. 
Rayed out at times a dangerous light ; 
495 The sharp heat-lightnings of her face 

Presaging ill to him whom Fate 

Condemned to share her love or hate. 

A woman tropical, intense 

In thought and act, in soul and sense, 
500 She blended in a like degree 

The vixen and the devotee, 

Revealing with each freak or feint 

The temper of Petruchio's Kate, 

The raptures of Siena's saint. 
505 Her tapering hand and rounded wrist 

Had facile power to form a fist ; 

The warm, dark languish of her eyes 

Was never safe from wrath's surprise. 

Brows saintly calm and lips devout 
510 Knew every change of scowl and pout; 

And the sweet voice had notes more high 

And shrill for social battle-cry. 

Since then what old cathedral town 

Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown, 
515 What convent-gate has held its lock 

Against the challenge of her knock! 

Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares, 

Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs. 

Gray olive slopes of hills that hem 
520 Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, 

Or startling on her desert throne 

The crazy Queen of Lebanon 

With claims fantastic as her own. 

Her tireless feet have held their way; 
525 And still, unrestful, bowed and gray. 

She watches under Eastern skies. 
With hope each day renewed and fresh, 

The Lord^s quick coming in the flesh. 

280 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Whereof she dreams and prophesies! 
530 Wherever her troubled path may be. 

The Lord^s sweet pity with her go I 
The outward wayward life we see. 

The hidden springs we may not know. 
Nor is it given us to discern ' 
535 What threads the fatal sisters spun. 

Through what ancestral years has run 
The sorrow with the woman born. 
What forged her cruel chain of moods, 
What set her feet in solitudes, 
540 And held the love within her mute. 

What mingled madness in the blood, 
A lifelong discord and annoy. 
Water of tears with oil of joy. 
And hid within the folded bud 
545 Perversities of flower and fruit. 

It is not ours to separate 
The tangled skein of will and fate. 
To show what metes and bounds should stand 
Upon the soul's debatable land, 
550 And between choice and Providence 

Divide the circle of events; 

But He who knows our frame is just. 
Merciful and compassionate. 
And full of sweet assurances 
555 And hope for all the language is. 

That He remembereth we are dust ! 

At last the great logs, crumbling low. 

Sent out a dull and duller glow. 

The buir&^ye watch that hung in view, 

560 Ticking its weary circuit through. 

Pointed with mutely-warning sign 
Its black hand to the hour of nine. 
That sign the pleasant circle broke : 
My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke, 

565 Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray. 

Snow-Bound 281 

And laid it tenderly away, 
Then roused himself to safely cover 
The dull red brand with ashes over. 
And while, with care, our mother laid 

570 The work aside, her steps she stayed 

One moment, seeking to express 
Her grateful sense of happiness 
For food and shelter, warmth and health, 
And love's contentment more than wealth, 

575 With simple wishes (not the weak. 

Vain prayers which no fuljSlment seek, 
But such as warm the generous heart, 
O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part) 
That none might lack, that bitter night, 

580 For bread and clothing, warmth and light. 

Within our beds awhile we heard 

The wind that round the gables roared. 

With now and then a ruder shock. 

Which made our very bedsteads rock. 
585 We heard the loosened clapboards tost, 

The board-nails snapping in the frost ; 

And on us, through the unplastered wall. 

Felt the lightsifted snow-flakes fall; 

But sleep stole on, as sleep will do 
590 When hearts are light and life is new ; 

Faint and more faint the murmurs grew, 

Till in the summer-land of dreams 

They softened to the sound of streams, 

Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars, 
595 And lapsing waves on quiet shores. 

Next mom we wakened with the shout 
Of merry voices high and clear; 
And saw the teamsters drawing near 
To break the drifted highways out. 
600 Down the long hillside treading slow 

We saw the half-buried oxen go. 

282 Elson Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

Shaking the snow from heads uptost, 
Their straining nostrils white with frost. 
Before our door the straggling train 

605 Drew up, an added team to gain. 

The elders threshed their hands a-cold, 
Passed, with the cider-mng, their jokes 
From lip to lip ; the younger folks 
Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled, 

610 Then toiled again the cavalcade 

O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine. 
And woodland paths that wound between 
Low drooping-pine-boughs winter-weighed. 
From every barn a team afoot, 

615 At every house a new recruit. 

Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law. 
Haply the watchful young men saw 
Sweet doorway pictures of the curls 
And curious eyes of merry girls, 

620 Lifting their hands in mock defense 

Against the snow-balls' compliments, 
And reading in each missive tost 
The charm which Eden never lost. 
We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound; 

625 And, following where the teamsters led. 

The wise old Doctor went his round. 
Just pausing at our door to say, 
In the brief autocratic way 
Of one who, prompt at Duty's call, 

630 Was free to urge her claim on all, 

That some poor neighbor sick abed 
At night our mother's aid would need. 
For, one in generous thought and deed. 
What mattered in the sufferer's sight 

635 The Quaker matron's inward light. 

The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed? 
All hearts confess the saints elect 

Who, twain in faith, in love agree. 
And melt not in an acid sect 

SnoW'Bound 283 

640 The Christian pearl of charity! 

So days went on : a week had passed 

Since the great world was heard from last. 

The Almanac we studied o'er, 

Bead and reread our little store 
645 Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score ; 

One harmless novel, mostly hid 

From younger eyes, a book forbid, 

And poetry, (or good or bad, 

A single book was all we had,) 
650 Where Ell wood's meek, drab-skirted Muse, 

A stranger to the heathen Xine, 
Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine, • 

The .wars of David and the Jews. 

At last the floundering carrier bore 
655 The village paper to our door. 

Lo ! broadening outward as we read, 

To warmer zones the horizon spread; 

In panoramic length unrolled 

We saw the marvel that it told. 
660 Before us passed the painted Creeks, 

And daft McGregor on his raids 
In Costa Rica's everglades. 

And up Taygetus winding slow 

Rode Ypsilanti^s Mainote Greeks, 
665 A Turk's head at each saddle bow ! 

Welcome to us its week-old news. 

Its corner for the rustic Muse, 

Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, 

Its record, mingling in a breath 
670 The wedding bell and dirge of death ; 

Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale, 

The latest culprit sent to jail; 

Its hue and cry of stolen and lost, 

Its vendue sales and goods at cost, 
675 And traffic calling loud for gain. 

We felt the stir of hall and street. 

The pulse of life that round us beat; 

284 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

The chill embargo of the snow 
Was melted in the genial glow ; 
680 Wide swung again our ice-locked door, 

And all the world was ours once more ! 

Clasp, Angel of the backward look 
And folded wings of ashen gray 
And voice of echoes far away, 

685 The brazen covers of thy book; 

The weird palimpsest old and vast. 
Wherein thou hid^st the spectral past; 
Where, closely mingling, pale and glow 
The characters of joy and woe; 

690 The monographs of outlived years. 

Or smile-illumined or dim with tears, 

Qreen hills of life that slope to death. 
And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees 
Shade off to mournful cypresses 

695 With the white amaranths underneath. 

Even while I look, I can but heed 
The restless sands' incessant fall. 
Importunate hours that hours succeed. 
Each clamorous with its own sharp need^ 

700 And duty keeping pace with all. 

Shut down and clasp the heavy lids ; 
I hear again the voice that bids 
The dreamer leave his dream midway 
For larger hopes and graver fears : 

705 Life greatens in these later years. 

The century's aloe flowers today ! 

Yet, haply, in some lull of life. 
Some Truce of Qod which breaks its strife. 
The worldling's eyes shall gather dew, 
710 Dreaming in throngful city ways 

Of winter joys his boyhood knew; 
And dear and early friends — the few 
Who yet remain — shall pause to view 






These Flemish pictures of old days ; 
Sit with me by the homestead hearth, 
And stretch the hands of memorj' forth 
To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze ! 
And thanks untraced to lips unknown 
Shall greet me like the odors blown 
From unseen meadows newly mown, 
Or lilies floating in some pond, 
. Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond ; 
The traveler owns the grateful sense 
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, 
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare 
The benediction of the air. 


Notes and Questions 

What does "snow-boulid" meant 

Find a line in the poem which ex- 
plains the title. 

Where is the scene of the poem 
laid? Find lines in the poem 
that tell you this. 

Of whom did the circle gathered 
around the fire consist? 

What members of the family are 
not described in the poemf Whyf 

Which one of the group can you 
see most plainly! Whyf 

Select the lines which please you 
most in the description of each. 

Bead four lines which show that 
the evening's pleasure was not 
disturbed by the storm. 

In what respects does the room 
described differ from one in your 

How long was the family "snow- 

Of what did their library consist? 

What does Whittier tell us about 
the brook f 

What other poem have you read 
which describes a brook in Win- 
ter? By whom was it written? 

What messenger put the household 
again in touch with the outside 
world? What did he bring? 

Explain what .Whittier means by 
saying the family looked on 
nothing they could call their own 
after the heavy snow? 

What is the meaning of the refer- 
ence to ''Pisa's leaning mir- 

Who was Aladdin? 

What were his ** lamp's supernal 

What effect did the moonlight have 
upon the night? 

Of what are cypress trees a sym- 


Elsan Grammar School Reader Book Four 

What do the stars shining through 
the cypress trees symbolize? 

What is the voice which Whittier 
says bids the dreamer leave his 

What lines do you think best show 
the poet's appreciation of beauty 
in nature? 

Choose the lines' which you like 
best as showing his deep affec- 

Bead lines which show his faith. 
Of what is the poet thinking when 

he speaks of the '^ restless sands' 

incessant fall"? 
To what mythological characters 

does he refer when he speaks of 

the ''threads the fatal sisters 

What • mythological characters are 

meant by ''the heathen Nine"? 

Words and Phrases for DiscusBion 

"Apollonius" "Hermes" "Egypt's Amun" "Surrey hills" 
"silhouette" "White of Selbome" "dean-winged hearth" 

"Petruchio's Kate" "Siena's saint" "cranes of Nilus" 





The sky is ruddy in the east. 

The earth is gray below, 
And, spectral in the river-mist. 

The ehip^s white timbers show. 

Then let the sounds of measured stroke 

And grating saw begin; 
The broad-axe to the gnarl6d oak. 

The mallet to the pin! 

Hark! — roars the bellows, blast on blast. 

The sooty smithy jars. 
And fire-sparks, rising far and fast, 

Are fading with the stars. 
All day for us the smith shall stand 

Beside that flashing forge; 
All day for us his heavy hand 

The groaning anvil scourge. 

The Ship-Builders 287 

From far-oflE hills, the panting team 

For lis is toiling near ; 
For us the raftsmen down the stream 
20 Their island barges steer. 

Bings out for us the axe-man's stroke 

In forests old and still, — 
For us the century-circled oak 

Falls crashing down his hill. 

25 Up ! — up ! — in nobler toil than ours 

No craftsmen bear a part: 
We make of Nature's giant powers 

The slaves of human Art. 
Lay rib to rib and beam to beam, 
30 And drive the treenails free; 

Nor faithless joint nor yawning seam 
Shall tempt the searching sea! 

Where'er the keel of our good ship 
The sea's rough field shall plough, — 
35 Where'er her tossing spars' shall drip 

With salt-spray caught below — 
That ship must heed her master's beck. 

Her helm obey his hand. 
And seamen tread her reeling deck • 
40 As if they trod the land. 

Her oaken ribs the vulture-beak 

Of Northern ice may peel; 
The sunken rock and coral peak 

May grate along her keel ; 
45 And know we well the painted shell 

We give to wind and wave. 
Must float, the sailor's citadel, 

Or sink, the sailor's grave ! 

Ho! — strike away the bars and blocks, 
50 And set the good ship free! 

288 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Why lingers on these dusty rocks 

The young bride of the sea? 
Look! how she moves adown the grooves. 
In graceful beauty now! 
55 How lowly on the breast she loves 

Sinks down her virgin prow! 

God bless her ! wheresoe'er the breeze 
Her snowy wing shall fan, 

Aside the frozen Hebrides, 
60 Or sultry Hindostan! 

Wherever, in mart or on the main, 
With peaceful flag unfurled. 

She helps to wind the silken chain 
Of commerce round the world ! 

65 Be hers the Prairie's golden grain, 

The Deserf s golden sand, 
The clustered fruits of sunny Spain, 

The spice of Morning-land! 
Her pathway on the open main 
70 May blessings follow free. 

And glad hearts welcome back again 
Her white sails from the sea ! 

Notes and Qnestiotts 

What time of day is indicated in 

the first and second stanzas f 
What tells you thisf 
How does the smith "scourge" 

the anvil? 
What effect does the poet fancy 

this has upon the anvil f 
Which of these two thoughts do 

you suppose first occurred to the 

What are the ''island barges"! 
What is a ''century-circled oak"? 

Did you ever see one? 
What is Whittier's idea of a ship« 

builder's work? 
In what way would a "yawning 

seam" tempt the sea? 
What is the "painted shell '»t 
How is a ship launched? 
What other poem have you read 

which descri]3es the launching of 

a ship? Who wrote it? 
Which poem do you like better? 


Oliver Wendell Holmes 289 

Words and Phrases for Discnssioit 

* * gnarled oak " * ' the sailor 's citadel " ' * spice of Morning- 

**faithless joint" ** snowy wing" land" 

*' coral peak" "Desert's golden sand" 


Oliver Wendell Holmes^s birth year, 1809, was made memorable 
on both sides of the Atlantic by the births of Lincoln, Tennyson, 
Poe, and Gladstone. His father, of colonial descent, was a Congre- 
gational minister at Cambridge. On his mother's side — ^the Wen- 
dells or Vondels — ^he was of Dutch descent. 

Holmes was brought up very simply in the old gambrel-roofed 
house, half parsonage and half farm house. He read the "New 
England Primer," "Pilgrim's Progress" and such poems as were to 
be found in the early school books. Later he was a student at 
Harvard, a member of the class of 1829, which, while not to be 
compared for literary genius with the Bowdoin class of 1825, was 
one of Harvard's most famous classes. Not long after his gradua- 
tion, the class of 1829 began to hold annual dinners and Holmes 
was regularly called upon to furnish an ode for the occasion. It 
was on the thirtieth anniversary that he wrote and recited "The 
Boys." In 1889, at the sixtieth anniversary, he wrote the last 
class poem, "After the Curfew." 

It was in the first year after his graduation that his verses went 
into type and then he says he had his first attack of "lead poison- 
ing." After leaving Harvard he studied law for a while and then 
turned to medicine and surgery, spending two years in study in 
Paris. It is a singular coincidence and shows his double work in 
life, that in 1836 when he published his first volume of poems 
he also took his degree as doctor of medicine. As a physician he 
was always deeply interested in the problems of heredity and 
he wrote several novels in which inherited characteristics play an 
important part. 

290 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

It was in September, 1830, that Holmes chanced to read in a 
newspaper of the proposal of the Navy Department to dismantle 
the frigate Constitution, which had done such good service in 1812 
but which was then lying, old and unseaworthy, in the navy yard 
at Charleston. He wrote at once with a lead pencil on a scrap 
of paper the stirring verses "Old Ironsides^^ and sent them to the 
Boston Daily Advertiser, from which they were copied in all the 
papers of the country. The frigate was converted into a school- 
ship, and Oliver Wendell Holmes became known as a poet. 

On every public occasion which could be enlivened or dignified 
by a special poem, Dr. Holmes was called upon. Such a position 
is a trying one and one to which only men with a sense of humor 
are often called. The doctor rarely refused to respond; so that 
nearly one-half of his verse is of this occasional character. Much 
of his verse is in lighter vein, but of the serious, surest in their 
hold upon his readers are "The Last Leaf" and ^The Chambered 
Nautilus." But Holmes, while he had a genuine gift of song, was 
no persistent singer like Longfellow or Whittier, and so he reached 
almost the age of fifty without feeling that the reading public had 
any special interest in him. Then in 1857, when the Atlantic 
Monthly was established, and Lowell took the editorship only on 
condition that Holmes would be a contributor, he wrote the "Auto- 
crat of the Breakfast Table." In this role of talker, comfortable, 
brilliant, and witty, Holmes made friends wherever the Autocrat 
was read. 

Holmes's intellect remained bright and he continued an active 
worker into extreme old age. In 1890 he published his last volume, 
"Over the Teacups." As one by one this brilliant company of 
New England writers left the world, Holmes sang to each a fare- 
well song. When his own time came he was really "The Last 
Leaf upon the Tree." The end came peacefully as he was talking 
to his son, October 7, 1894, 

The Chambered Nautilus 291 



This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign. 

Sails the unshadowed main — 

The venturous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings, 
5 In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, 

And coral reefs lie bare. 
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. 

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl ; 
Wrecked is the ship of pearl I 
10 And every chambered cell. 

Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell. 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 

Before thee lies revealed — 
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed I 

15 Year after year beheld the silent toil 
That spread his lustrous coil ; 
Still, as the spiral grew. 
He left the past yearns dwelling for the new. 
Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 
20 Built up its idle door. 

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee. 

Child of the wandering sea. 

Cast from her lap, forlorn ! 
25 From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 

While on mine ear it rings. 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings : 

Build thee more stately mansions, my soul, 
30 As the swift seasons roll ! 

Leave thy low-vaulted past! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast. 

Till thou at length art free, 

35 Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea ! 

Notes and Questions 
word nautilus What are 

What does the 

What thought must have been in 
the mind of those who gave the 
chambered nautilus this nameY 

Who does Holmes tell us have 
given expression to this fancy f 

Can you think of any bodies of 
water which might be called 
''enchanted gulfs"! 

Give reasons for your answer. 

What are coral reefs? Where are 
they found? 

What kind of beings were "sea- 
maids" supposed to be? 

they more comnionly 

called ? 
To whom is the poet speaking? 
What name do we give to such a 

speech ? 
How does the soul build mansions? 
In what directions must a dome 

be extended to make it ''more 

What does the poet mean by the 

** outgrown shell" of the soul? 
What is the lesson of the poem? 
Which stanza do you like bestf 


Words and Phrases for Discussion 

of living 
more un- 
'dim dreaming life" 

' Its webs 
gauze no 

** sunless crypt" 
"caves of thought" 
"lustrous coil" 
"cast from her lap 

"low- vaulted past" 

"irised ceiling'' 

'' life's unresting sea" 



Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay. 

That was built in such a logical way 

It ran a hundred years to a day, 

And then, of a sudden, it ah, but stay, 

The Deacon's Masterpiece 293 

S FU tell you what happened without delay, 

Scaring the parson into fits, 
Frightening people out of their wits, — 
Have you ever heard of that, I say ? 

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five, 
10 Oeorgius Secundus was then alive, — 

Snuffy old drone from the German hive. 
That was the year when Lisbon-town 
Saw the earth open and gulp her down. 
And Braddock's army was done so brown, 
IS Left without a scalp to its crown. 

It was on the terrible Earthquake-day 
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay. 

Now in building of chaises, I tell you what. 
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, — 

20 In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill. 

In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill. 
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, — ^lurking, still. 
Find it somewhere you must and will, — 
Above or below, or within or without, — 

25 And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, 

A chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out. 

But the Deacon swore, (as Deacons do. 
With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou") 
He would build one shay to beat the taown 

30 'N' the keounty V all the kentry raoun'; 

It should be so built that it couldn' break daown. 
— "Pur," said the Deacon, " 't's mighty plain 
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan* the strain; 
'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, is only jest 

35 T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." 

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk 
Wliere he could find the strongest oak. 
That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke, — 

294 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

That was for spokes and floor and sills ; 

40 He sent for laneewood to make the thills ; 

The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees. 
The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese. 
But lasts like iron for things like these; 
The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum,'' — 

45 Last of its timber, — ^they couldn't sell 'em, 

Never an axe had seen their chips, 
And the wedges flew from between their lips. 
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips ; 
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, 

50 Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too. 

Steel of the finest, bright and blue ; 
Thoroughbrace, bison-skin, thick and wide ; 
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide 
Found in the pit when the tanner died. 

55 That was the way he "put her through." — 

"There !" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew.'' 

Do ! I tell you, I rather guess 
She was a wonder, and nothing less ! 
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, 
60 Deacon and deaconess dropped away. 

Children and grandchildren — where were they ? 
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay 
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day ! 

Eighteen hundred; — it came and found 
65 The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. 

Eighteen hundred increased by ten; — 
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then. 
Eighteen hundred and twenty came ; — 
Running as usual; much the same. 
70 Thirty and forty at last arrive, 

And then came fifty, and fifty-five. 

Little of all we value here 

Wakes on the morn of its hundredth vear 

The Deacon's Masterpiece 295 

Without both feeling and looking queer. 
75 In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, 

So far as I know, but a tree and truth. 
(This is a moral that runs at large; 
Take it. — You're welcome. — No extra charge.) 

First of November, — the Earthquake-day. — 
80 There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, 

A general flavor of mild decay. 
But nothing local, as one may say. 
There couldn't be — for the Deacon's art 
Had made it so like in every part 
85 That there wasn't a chance for one to start. 

For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, 
And the floor was just as strong as the sills. 
And the panels just as strong as the floor. 
And the whippletree neither less nor more, 
90 And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore. 

And spring and axle and hub encore. 
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt 
In another hour it will be worn out! 

First of November, fif ty-flve ! 

95 This morning the parson takes a drive. 

Now, small boys, get out of the way ! 
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, 
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. 
"Huddup !" said the parson. — Off went they. 

100 The parson was working his Sunday's text, — 

Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed 
At what the — Moses — was coming next. 
All at once the horse stood still. 
Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill. 

105 First a shiver, and then a thrill, 

Then something decidedly like a spill, — 
And the parson was sitting upon a rock. 
At half-past nine by the meet'n'-house clock — 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 



Just the hour of the Earthquake shock I 
What do you think the parson found, 
When he got up and stared around? 
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, 
As if it had been to the mill and ground. 
You see, of course, if you're not a dunce. 
How it went to pieces all at once, — 
All at once, and nothing first, — 
Just as bubbles do when they burst. 

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay, 
Logic is logic. That's all I say. 

Notes and Questions 

How does Holmes account for the 
fact * * that a chaise breaks down, 
but doesn't wear out"! 

What kind of chaise did the Dea- 
con decide to build f 

On what principle did he expect 
to do this? 

Bead the lines in which the Deacon 
states the result of his expe- 
rience with chaises. 

What do you think of his reason- 

To what besides the building of a 
chaise might this principle be 

To what does the poet compare 

the breaking down of the chaise I 
Bead lines which show the serious 

side of the poet's nature. 
Bead the lines by means of which 

he passes from seriousness to 

Do you think Holmes expects his 

readers to believe this story? 

Give reason for your answer. 
What was his purpose in writing it ? 
What has the reading of this poem 

done for you? 

Words and Phrases for Discnssion 

**Georgius Secundus" **from the German hive' 

** Lisbon earthquake day" '*Braddock's army*' 

Old Ironsides 297 



Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high. 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky : 
5 Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar : — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 
10 Where knelt the vanquished foe, 

When winds were hurrying o'er the flood. 

And waves were white below, 
No more shall feel the victor's tread. 
Or know the conquered knee ; — 
15 The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave ; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 
20 And there should be her grave : 

Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms. 

The lightning and the gale I 

Historical: Old Ironsides was the name given the frigate Constitu- 
tion. It was proposed by the Secretary of the Navy to dispose of the 
ship as it had become unfit for service. Popular sentiment did not ap- 
prove of this. It was said a ship which was the pride of the nation 
should continue to be the property of the Navy and be rebuilt for serv- 
ice when needed. Holmes wrote this poem at the time of this dis- 


Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

Notes and 
Of what does the first stanza treat? 

The second? 
What does the third stanza tell 

To what does ** tattered ensign'* 

refer ? 
What is **The meteor of the ocean 



What is meant by lines 15 and 16? 
Where does Holmes say should be 

the grave of Old Ironsides? 

Explain lines 23 and 24. 
Which lines do you like best? 


Words and Phrases for Discussion 
'sweep the clouds'' '* vanquished foe" • ** victor's tread" 
* conquered knee" **The god of storms" ''shattered hulk" 

'mighty deep" "threadbare sail" 





Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys ? 
If there has, take him out, without making a noise. 
Hang the Almanacks cheat and the Catalogue's spite ! 
Old Time is a liar ! We're twenty tonight ! 

We're twenty ! We're twenty I Who says we are more ? 
He's tipsy, — young jackanapes !— show him the door ! 
"Gray temples at twenty ?" — Yes ! white if we please ; 
Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can 
freeze ! 

Was it snowing I spoke of ? Excuse the mistake ! 
Look close, — ^you will see not a sign of a flake ! 
We want some new garlands for those we have shed, — 
And these are white roses in place of the red. 

We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told. 
Of talking (in public) as if we were old: — 
That boy we call "Doctor," and this we call "Judge" ; 
It's a neat little fiction, — of course it's all fudge. 

The Boys 299 

That fellow^s the "Speaker/' — the one on the right ; 
"Mr. Mayor/' my young one, how are you tonight? 
That's our "Member of* Congress/' we say when we chaff ; 
20 There's the "Reverend" What's his name? — don't make me 


That boy with the grave mathematical look 
Made believe he had written a wonderful book, 
And the Boyal Society thought it was true! 
So they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too! 

25 There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain, 

That could harness a team with a logical chain; 
When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire, 
We called him "The Justice/' but now he's "The Squire/' 

And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith, — 
30 Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith; 

But he shouted a song for the brave and the free, — 
Just read on his medal, "My country, ... of thee !" 

You hear that boy laughing? — You think he's all fun; 
But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done ; 
35 The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, 

And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all ! 

Yes, we're boys, — always playing with tongue or with pen, — 
And I sometimes have asked, — Shall we ever be men ? 
Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and gay, 
40 Till the last dear companion drops smiling away? 

Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray ! 
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May ! 
And when we have done with our life-lasting toys. 
Dear Father, take care of thy children, the Boys. 


Historical: This poem was read by Oliver Wendell Holmes at a re- 
union of his college class thirty years after their graduation. 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Notes and Questions 

Who were "the boys*'? 

What was the ' ' Almanac 's cheat * ' ? 

What catalogue do you think 

Holmes meant? 
How could it be interpreted as 

showing spite against "the 

How did the poet defend "gray 

temples at twenty"! 
What was the significance in early 

times of the garland or wreath 

upon the head? 
What do you think the garlands 

which the poet imagines his 

classmates "have shed" repre- 
Of what does Holmes say their new 

garlands were made? 
What might the » * * new garlands ' * 

represent ? 

What fancy does the poet carry 
out in the next stanza? 

What song did the "nice young- 
ster" write? 

What is his full name? 

What word is omitted from the line 
of the song quoted by Holmes? 

How do you think Holmes felt to- 
ward the laughing * * boy ' ' ? Wh jr 
do you think so? 

Can you name anything besides 
"tongue and pen" with whicb 
men may be said to play? 

What time of life is meant by 
the "gold"? By the "gray"? 

How much of this poem is funf 

Which stanza do you like bestf 

What do you know about Oliver 
Wendell Holmes from this poem f 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

* Royal Society" "three-decker brain" "excellent pith' 

"life-lasting toys"- 



I SAW him once before. 
As he passed by the door, 

And again 
The pavement stones resoimd, 
As he totters o^er the ground 

With his cane. 

The Last Leaf SOI 

They say that in his prime, 
Ere the pruning-knife of Time 

Cut him down, 
10 Not a better man was found 

By the Crier on his round 

Through the town. 

But now he walks the streets, 
And he looks at all he meets 
15 Sad and wan. 

And he shakes his feeble head, 
That it seems as if he said, 
"They are gone/' 

The mossy marbles rest 
20 On the lips that he has prest 

In their bloom, 
And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 

On the tomb. 

25 My grandmamma has said, — 

Poor old lady, she is dead 

Long ago,— 
That he had a Roman nose 
And his cheek was like a rose 

30 In the snow. 

But now his nose is thin, 
And it rests upon his chin 

Like a staff, 
And a crook is in his back, 
35 And a melancholy crack 

In his laugh. 

I know it is a sin 
For me to sit and grin 
At him here; 

802 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

40 But the old three-cornered hat. 

And the breeches, and all that, 
Are so queer! 

And if I should live to be 
The last leaf upon the tree 
45 In the spring, 

Let them smile, as I do now. 
At the old forsaken bough 
Where I cling. 

What was the office of the Crier? 

What has done away with the ne- 
cessity for such service? 

At what time was the costume de- 
scribed in the seventh stanza 

What great men can you mention 
who are pictured in this dress?.. 

What makes the description of the 


Notes and Qnestions 

old man so vivid? 
How does he resemble ''the last 

leaf on the tree''? 
Of whom is Holmes thinking when 

he says "Let them smile''! 
What is added to the picture of 

the last leaf by the words '*Iii 

the spring"? 

Words and Phrases for Discussion 

'pruning knife of Time" "mossy marbles" 


James Eussell Lowell was born at Cambridge in the beauti- 
ful house known as Elmwood. He was more fortunate than most 
Americans, for in this same house he lived and died. The dwelling 
at Elmwood was like Craigie House, an historic place of Eevoln- 
tionary memories. The secluded, ample grounds made a fine rural 
refuge for a youth of poetic fancies. Nor was there only wealth for 
the nature-lover of outdoors; there were also treasures for the 
lover of books within. The Lowell library was the accumulation of 
several generations of scholarly men, and Lowell from early youth 
was familiar with books which Whittier even in the studious leisure 
of old age never looked into. 

The Vision of Sir Launfal 303 

Lowell was twelve years younger than Longfellow and was a 
sophomore when Longfellow went to Harvard as professor of 
Bomanee languages. At Harvard Lowell distinguished himself 
especially in literary matters. In the last year of his residence he 
was one of the editors of the college magazine and was also elected 
class poet. Although he studied law, he was never attracted to the 
practice of it. 

Lowell, like Whittier, could turn from the heat and strife 
of public affairs to the solace of pure poetry. Inspired by the 
legend of the Holy Grail, he wrote within forty-eight hours, so we 
are told, the poem of knightly aspiration and brotherly love, "The 
Vision of Sir Launfal." 

In 1856, upon Longfellow's resignation, Lowell was appointed 
professor of Eomance Languages at Harvard, and, like Longfellow, 
he remained for twenty years. In 1857 a new magazine to which 
Holmes had given the name "Atlantic Monthly" was established 
and Lowell was its first editor. 

In 1877 Lowell was appointed minister to Spain, where Irving 
had been sent more than thirty years before ; and in 1880 he was 
transferred to the court of St. James. Here he distinguished him- 
self by tact, courtesy, and wisdom and won the admiration of the 
English people. 

Returning to America in 1885 Lowell continued to write, and 
deUvered addresses when his strength would permit. He spent his 
time among his books and lived peacefully at Elmwood, where he 
died jn 1891 at the age of seventy-two. 



Over his keys the musing organist, 

Beginning doubtfully and far away, 
First lets his fingers wander as they list, 

And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay : 

304 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

5 Then, as the touch of his loved instrument 

Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme. 
First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent 
Along the wavering vista of his dream. 

Not only around our infancy 
10 Doth heaven with all its splendors lie ; 

Daily, with souls that cringe and plot. 
We Sinais climb and know it not. 
Over our manhood bend the skies; 
Against our fallen and traitor lives 
15 The great winds utter prophecies ; 

With our faint hearts the mountain strives ; 
Its arms outstretched, the Druid wood 

Waits with its benedicite ; 
And to our age's drowsy blood 
20 Still shouts the inspiring sea. 

Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us ; 
The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, 
The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us. 
We bargain for the graves we lie in ; 
25 At the Devil's booth are all things sold, 

Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold; 

For a cap and bells our lives we pay. 
Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking: 
'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 
30 ^Tis only God may be had for the asking ; 

No price is set on the lavish summer; 
June may be had by the poorest comer. 

And what is so rare as a day in June ? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days; 
35 Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune. 

And over it softly her warm ear lays; 
Whether we look, or whether we listen. 
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 
Every clod feels a stir of might. 

The Vision of Sir Launfal 306 

40 An instinct within it that reaches and towers^ 

And, groping blindly above it for light, 
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; 
The flush of life may well be seen 
Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; 
45 The cowslip startles in meadows green, 

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice. 
And there^s never a leaf or a blade too mean 

To be some happy creature's palace ; 
The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 
50 Atilt like a blossom among the leaves. 

And lets his illumined being o'errun 

With the deluge of summer it receives ; 
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, 
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; 
55 He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — 

In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best ? 

Now is the high-tide of the year. 

And whatever of life hath ebbed away 

Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer, 
60 Into every bare inlet and creek and bay ; 

Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, 

We are happy now because God wills it; 

No matter how barren the past may have been, 

'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green ; 
65 We sit in the warm shade and feel right well 

How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell ; 

We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing 

That skies are clear and grass is growing ; 

The breeze comes whispering in our ear, 
70 That dandelions are blossoming near. 

That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing. 

That the river is bluer than the sky, 

That the robin is plastering his house hard by ; 

And if the breeze kept the good news back, 
75 For other couriers we should not lack ; 

306 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing,- 
And hark I how clear bold chanticleer, 
Warmed with the new wine of the year. 

Tells all in his lusty crowing ! 

80 Joy comes, grief jgoes, we know not how : 

Everything is happy now, 

Everything is upward striving ; 
*Tis as ea^y now for the heart to be true 
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 
85 ^Tis the natural way of living : 

Who knows whither the clouds have fled ? 

In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake; 
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, 
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache ; 
90 The soul partakes the season's youth, 

And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe 
Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth. 
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow. 
What wonder if Sir Launfal now 
95 Eemembered the keeping of his vow ? 


"My golden spurs now bring to me. 
And bring to me my richest mail, 

For tomorrow I go over land and sea 
In search of the Holy Grail ; 
100 Shall never a bed for me be spread, 

Nor shall a pillow be under my head, 

Till I begin my vow to keep ; 

Here on the rushes will I sleep. 

And perchance there may come a vision true 
105 Ere day create the world anew.*' 

Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim, 
Slumber fell like a cloud on him, 

And into his soul the visior flew. 

The Vision of Sir Launfdl 30!i 


The crows flapped over by twos and threes, 
110 In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees. 

The little birds sang as if it were 
The one day of summer in all the year, 

And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees; 

The castle alone in the landscape lay 
115 Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray : 

^Twas the proudest hall in the North Countree^ 

And never its gates might opened be, 

Save to lord or lady of high degree ; 

Summer besieged it on every ^side, 
120 But the churlish stone her assaults defied; 

She could not scale the chilly wall. 

Though around it for leagues her pavilions tall 

Stretched left and right. 

Over the hills and out of sight ; 
125 Green and broad was every tent, 

And out of each a murmur went 

Till the breeze fell off at night. 

The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang. 
And through the dark arch a charger sprang, 
130 Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight. 

In his gilded mail, that flamed so bright 
It seemed the dark castle had gathered all 
Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall 
In his siege of three hundred summers long, 
135 And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf. 

Had cast them forth : so, young and strong, 
And lightsome as a locust-leaf, 
Sir Launfal flashed forth in his unscarred mail. 
To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail. 


140 It was morning on hill and stream and tree, 

And morning in the young knight's heart j 

308 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Only the castle moodily 
Eebuffed the gifts of the sunshine free. 
And gloomed by itself apart ; 
145 The season brimmed all other things up 

Full as the rain fills the pitcher-plant's cup. 

As Sir Launf al made mom through the darksome gate^ 

He was Vare of a leper, crouched by the same. 
Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate ; 
150 And a loathing over Sir Launf al came ; 

The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, 

The flesh 'neath his armor did shrink and crawl. 
And midway its leap his heart stood still 
Like a frozen waterfall; 
155 For this man, so foul and bent of stature, 

Easped harshly against his dainty nature. 
And seemed the one blot on the summer morn, — 
So he tossed him a piece of gold in scorn. 


The leper raised not the gold from the dust : 

160 "Better to me the poor man's crust. 

Better the blessing of the poor. 
Though I turn me empty from his door; 
That is no true alms which the hand can hold; 
He gives nothing but worthless gold 

165 Who gives from a sense of duty; 

But he who gives but a slender mite, 
And gives to that which is out of sight, 

That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty 
Which runs through all and doth all unite, — 

170 The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms. 

The heart outstretches its eager palms. 
For a god goes with it and makes it store 
To the soul that was starving in darkness before/^ 

The Vision of Sir Launfal 309 


Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, 
175 From the snow five thousand summers old; 

On open wold and hilltop bleak 
It had gathered all the cold, 

And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek; 

It carried a shiver everywhere 
180 From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare ; 

The little brook heard it and built a roof 

^Neath which he could house him, winter-proof; 

All night by the white stars' frosty gleams 

He groined his arches and matched his beams; 
185 Slender and clear were his crystal spars 

As the lashes of light that trim the stars ; 

He sculptured every summer delight 

In his halls and chambers out of sight ; 

Sometimes his tinkling waters slipt 
190 Down through a frost-leaved forest-crypt. 

Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees 

Bending to counterfeit a breeze ; 

Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew 

But silvery mosses that downward grew; 
195 Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief 

With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf; 

Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear 

For the gladness of heaven to shine through, and here 

He had caught the nodding bulrush-tops 
200 And hung them thickly with diamond-drops. 

That crystalled the beams of moon and sun. 

And made a star of every one : 

'No mortal builder's most rare device 

Could match this winter-palace of ice ; 
205 'Twas as if every image that mirrored lay 

In his depths serene through the summer day. 

Each fleeting shadow of earth and sky. 
Lest the happy model should be lost, 

Had been mimicked in fairy masonry 
210 By the elfin builders of the frost. 

510' EUon Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

Within the hall are song and laughter, 

The cheeks of Christmas grow red and jolly. 
And sprouting is every corbel and rafter 

With lightsome green of ivy and holly; 
215 Through the deep gulf of the chimney wide 

Wallows the Yule-log's roaring tide; 
The broad flame-pennons droop and flap 

And belly and tug as a flag in the wind ; 
Like a locust shrills the imprisoned sap, 
220 Hunted to death in its galleries blind ; 

And swift little troops of silent sparks, 

Now pausing, now scattering away as in fear. 
Go threading the soot-forest's tangled darks 

Like herds of startled deer. 

225 But the wind without was eager and sharp. 

Of Sir Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp. 
And rattles and wrings 
The icy strings, 
Singing, in dreary monotone, 
230 A Christmas carol of its own. 

Whose burden still, as he might guess. 
Was "Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!" 
The voice of the seneschal flared like a torch 
As he shouted the wanderer away from the porch, 
235 And he sat in the gateway and saw all night 

^ The great hall-fire, so cheery and bold, 

Through the window-slits of the castle old. 
Build out its piers of ruddy light 
Against the drift of the cold. 



24C There was never a leaf on bush or tree. 

The bare boughs rattled shudderingly ; 
The river was dumb and could not speak. 

The Vision of Sir Laiinfal 311 

For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun ; 
A single crow on the tree-top bleak 
245 From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun; 

Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold. 
As if her veins were sapless and old, 
And she rose up decrepitly 
For a last dim look at earth and sea. 


250 Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate. 

For another heir in his earldom sate ; 
An old, bent man, worn out and frail, 
He came back from seeking the Holy Grail ; 
Little he recked of his earldom^s loss, 

255 No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross. 

But deep in his soul the sign he wore, 
The badge of the suffering and the poor. 


Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare 
Was idle mail 'gainst the barbed air, 

260 For it was just at the Christmas time ; 

So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime, 
And sought for a shelter from cold and snow 
In the light and warmth of long ago ; 
He sees the snake-like caravan crawl 

265 O'er the edge of the desert, black and small. 

Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one. 
He can count the camels in the sun. 
As over the red-hot sands they pass 
To where, in its slender necklace of grass, 

270 The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade. 

And with its own self like an infant played, 
And waved its signal of palms. 

312 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 


"For Chrisf s sweet sake, I beg an alms ;" — 
The happy camels may reach the spring, 
275 But Sir Launfal sees naught save the grewsome thing. 

The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone. 
That cowers beside him, a thing as lone 
And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas 
In the desolate horror of his disease. 


280 And Sir Launfal said, "I behold in thee 

An image of Him rwho died on the tree ; 
Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns. 
Thou also hast had the world's buflfets and scorns, 
And to thy life were not denied 

285 The wounds in the hands and feet and side : 

Mild Mary's Son. acknowledge me; 
Behold, through him, I give to Thee !" 


Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes 
And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he 
290 Bemembered in what a haughtier guise 

He had flung an alms to leprosie, 
When he caged his young life up in gilded mail 
And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. 
The heart within him was ashes and dust; 
295 He parted in twain his single crust, 

He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink, 
And gave the leper to eat and drink : 
'Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 
'Twas water out of a wooden bowl, — 
300 Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed. 

And 'twas red wine he drank with his thirsty soul. 

The Vision of Sir Launfal 313 


As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, 
A light shone round about the place ; 
The leper no longer crouched at his side, 
305 But stood before him glorified, 

Shining and tall and fair and straight 

As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, — 

Himself the Gate whereby men can 

Enter the temple of God in Man. 

y vin. 

310 His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine. 

And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine. 
That mingle their softness and quiet in one 
With the shaggy unrest they float down upon ; 
And the voice that was calmer than silence said, 

315 **Lo, it is I, be not afraid ! 

In many climes, without avail, 
Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail ; 
Behold, it is here, — this cup which thou 
Didst fill at the streamlet for Me but now ; 

320 This crust is My body broken for thee; 

This water His blood that died on the tree ; 
The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, 
In whatso we share with another's need : 
Not what we give, but what we share, — 

325 For the gift without the giver is bare ; 

Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, — 
Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me." 


Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound : — 
*^The Grail in my castle here is found ! 
330 Hang my idle armor up on the wall. 

Let it be the spider's banquet-hall; 
He must be fenced with stronger mail 
Who would seek and find the Holy Grail.'^ 


Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 




The castle gate stands open now, 
And the wanderer is welcome to the hall 

As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough ; 
No longer scowl the turrets tall, 

The Summer's long siege at last is o'er; 

When the first poor outcast went in at the door. 

She entered witii him in disguise. 

And mastered the fortress by surprise ; 

Ther^ is no spot she loves so well on ground, 

She lingiers and smiles there the whole year round; 

The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land 

Has hall and bower at his command ; 

And there's no poor man in the North Countree 

But is lord of the earldom as much as he. 

Notes and Questions 

Into what two parts does the poem 

What purpose does the prelude to 
each part serve! 

What were the conditions under 
which Sir Launfal set out in 
search of the Holy Grail f 

How did the sight of the leper 
affect the young knight when he 
''flashed forth*' from his castle f 

How did the leper explain his re- 
fusal of the alms tossed him! 

What picture does the prelude to 
Part Second give youf Contrast 
it with that of the prelude to 
Part First. 

Describe Sir LaunfaFs appear- 
ance on his return from his 

What had he lost while on his 
search f 

What had he gained! 

Describe the second meeting witb 
the leper. 

How much of this story was a 
dream f Explain why you think 

With what line does Lowell begin 
the account of Sir Launfal's 
vision f 

What effect did the dream or 
vision have upon Sir Launfal! 

What do you think is the great 
lesson of this poemf 

Of whom is Sir Launfal a type? 

What does the cold grim castle 

Find lines in the prelude to Part 
First which show the first stir- 
ring of Sir Launfal's spiritual 
nature. What influences prompt- 
ed this! 

Why did Lowell choose a leper to 
confront Sir Launfal t 

Yussouf 315 

Woxds and Phrases for Dlscfusion 

''We Sinais climb and know it 

''Behold it is here — the Grail in 
my castle here is found" 

''With our faint hearts the moun- 
tain strives" 

''Then Heaven tries earth if it be 
in tune" 

"For a god goes with it" 
"Himself the Gate whereby men 

can Enter the temple of God in 

' ' She entered with him in disguise ' ' 
''He must be fenced with stronger 




A STRANGER Came one night to Yussouf's tent. 
Saying, "Behold one outcast and in dread, 
Against whose life the bow of power is bent. 
Who flies, and hath not where to lay his head ; 
5 I come to thee for shelter and for food. 

To Yussouf , called through all our tribes ^The Good/ ' 

"This tent is mine,^^ said Yussouf, "but no more 
Than it is God's ; come in, and be at peace ; 
Freely shalt thou partake of all my store 
10 As I of His who buildeth over these 

Our tents His glorious roof of night and day. 
And at whose door none ever yet heard 'Nay.' " 

So Yussouf entertained his guest that night, 
And, waking him ere day, said: "Here is gold; 
15 My swiftest horse is saddled for thy flight ; 
Depart before the prying day grow bold/' 
As one lamp lights another, nor grows less, 
So nobleness enkindleth nobleness. 

That inward light the stranger's face made grand, 
20 Which shines from all self-conquest ; kneeling low. 
He bowed his forehead upon Yussouf 's hand. 


EUon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

Sobbing: ^*0, Sheik, I cannot leave thee so; 
I will repay thee ; all this thou hast done 
Unto that Ibrahim whp slew thy son!^' ' 

25 ''Take thrice the gold/' said Yussouf, "for with thee 

Into the desert, never to return. 

My one black thought shall ride away from me; 

First-born, for whom by day and night I yearn, 

Balanced and just are all of God's decrees; 
30 Thou art avenged, my first-bom, sleep in peace!" 

Notes and Qnestioiis 

Where do you think the scene of 
this poem was laid! Give the 
reason for your answer. 

What do you know of the habits 
of people who live in tents? 

What .virtues would men living in 
this way most admire f Why! 

How do you think Yussouf had 
won his title of ''The Good"? 

To what does the stranger com- 
pare himself? 

What does the bending of the bow 

To what tribes does the stranger 

What do you learn of Yussouf 's 

character from the second and 

third stanzas? 
What emotions made the stranger 's 

face ** grand"? 
What do you suppose Yussouf s 

' ' one black thought "bad been ? 
How did he avenge his son? 
When does Yussouf show himself 

most noble? 

Woxds and Phrases for Discnssioa 
"prying day" ''nobleness enkindleth nobleness" 

' ' self -conquest " " for whom by day and night I yearn ' ' 


Sidney Lanier is a poet of the South who year by year appeals 
to a larger number of lovers of good literature. He was born in 
Georgia of Huguenot and Scotch ancestry and when only a small 
lad showed great talent and love for music. His mother encour- 

Sidney Lanier 317 

aged him in this, and from beginning with clapping bones it was 
not long before he learned to play on the guitar, banjo, violin, and 
flute. On the Christmas when he was seven years old he was given 
a small one-keyed flute, and from that time on the flute became 
his favorite instrument. When he grew to manhood he be^jame 
first flutist in the Baltimore orchestra. So passionately fond was 
he of music that he could scarcely decide between that and poetry 
as his choice for a profession. 

He was graduated from a Georgia college at the age of eighteen, 
and in the following year, 1861, he enlisted in the Southern 
army. His younger brother, Clifford, of whom he was very fond, 
also enlisted, and when opportunities for promotion came to both 
they declined rather than be separated. They engaged in many 
battles, but Sidney Lanier found time, even during the war, to 
continue his study. In 1864 he wa9. taken prisoner, while doing 
duty as a signal officer, and spent five months in Point Lookout 
prison. He came home from the hardships of war broken in 
health, so that from that time on his life was one fierce struggle 
against disease. 

From the time when as a boy he spent hours in his father's 
library reading the tales of King Arthur, the stories of romantic 
chivalry were of absorbing interest to him. He understood and 
loved boys, for he had four of his own, and for these he has written 
"The Boy's Froissart,'' "The Bo/s King Arthur*' and the 
"Knightly Legends of Wales.*' 

In 1879 he was appointed lecturer on English literature at the 
Johns Hopkins University, and his prospects were at last brighten- 
ing when two years later he died. During the last seven years of 
his life, struggling ever with poverty and pain, he wrote his one 
volume of poetry. His poems show his great faith — indeed, his 
poem, "The Marshes of Glynn,'' is religion set to music. 

318 Elson Grammar School Reader Booh Four 



braided dusks of the oak and woven shades of the vine. 
While the riotous noonday sun of the June day long did shine 
Ye held me fast in your heart and I held you fast in mine ; 
But now when the noon is no more, and riot is rest, 
5 And the sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the West, 
And the slant yellow beam down the wood aisle doth seem 
Like a lane into heaven that leads from a dream, — 
Aye, now, when my soul all day hath drunken the soul of the oak. 
And my heart is at ease from men, and the wearisome sound of 
the stroke 
lO Of the scythe of time and the trowel of trade is low, 

And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I know, ' 

And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within. 
That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of 

Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore 
IS When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but bitterness 

sore, ! 

And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnamable pain 
Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the plain, — 
Oh, now, unafraid, I am fain to face 
The vast, sweet visage of space. 
20 To the edge of the wood I am drawn, I am drawn. 

Where the gray beach glimmering runs, as a belt of the dawn, ' 

For a mete and a mark 
To the forest dark: — 

25 Aflfable live oak, leaning low, — j 

Thus — with your favor — soft, with a reverent hand, 
(Not lightly touching your person, lord of the land !) j 

Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand 
On the firm-packed sand, i 

The Marshes of Glynn 319 

^ Free 

30 By a world of marsh, that borders a world of sea. 

Sinuous southward and sinuous northward the shimmering band 
Of the sand beach fastens the fringe of the marsh to the folds 
of the land. 
Vanishing, swerving, evermore curving again into sight. 
Softly the sand beach wavers away to a dim gray looping of light. 
35 And what if behind me to westward the wall of the woods stands 
The world lies east : how ample the marsh and the sea and the sky ! 
A league and a league of marsh grass, waist-high, broad in the 

Green, and all of a height, and unflecked with a light or a shade, 
Stretch leisurely oflf, in a pleasant plain, 
40 To the terminal blue of the main. 

Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal- sea ? 

Somehow my soul seems suddenly free 
From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of sin. 
By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of 
45 Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-withholding and 
Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea ! 
Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun. 
Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won 
God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain 
50 And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain. 
As the marsh hen secretly builds on the watery sod. 
Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God I 
I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh hen flies 
In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the 
skies : 
55 By so many roots as the marsh grass sends in the sod 
I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God : 
Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness within 

320 Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of Glynn. 
And the sea lends large, as the marsh : lo, out of his plenty the sea 
60 Pours fast : full soon the time of the flood tide must be : 
Look how the grace of the sea doth go 
About and about through the intricate channels that flow 
Here and there. 

65 Till his waters have flooded the uttermost creeks and the low-lying 
And the marsh is mesh^ with a million veins. 
That like as with rosy and silvery essences flow 
In the rose-and-silver evening glow. 

Farewell, my lord Sun! 
70 The creeks overflow : a thousand rivulets run 

^Twixt the roots of the sod ; the blades of the marsh grass stir; 
Passeth a hurrying sound of wings that westward whir; 
Passeth, and all is still; and the currents cease to run; 
And the sea and the marsh are one. 
75 How still the plains of the waters be ! 
The tide is in his ecstasy ; 
The tide is at its highest height: 
And it is night. 
And now from the Vast of the Lord will the waters of sleep 
80 Roll in on the souls of men. 

But who will reveal to our waking ken 

The forms that swim and the shapes that creep 

Under the waters of sleep? 
And I would I could know what swimmeth below when the tide 
comes in 
85 On the length and the breadth of the marvelous marshes of Glynn. 

Notes and Questions 

What can you tell of the coastal 

plain in Georgia! 
"What effect on the poet had the 

"dusks of the oak'' at noon! 

At sunset yrhat appealed more 

strongly to himf 
How does the poet account for his 

lack of fear of the marshes nowf 

The Marshes of Olynn 


111 the marsh region what is 

*aord of the land''! 
What characteristics of the 

marshes does the poet point outt 
What comparisons are found in 

lines fifty to fifty-five! 
To what does the poet compare 

the extent of the marshes of 

In this region when does the flood 

tide come? What tells you! 
Which picture in the poem do you 

like best! 

Explain: /'Passeth a hurrying 

sound of wings that westward 

What is the meaning of the last 

nine lines! 
Do you like this poemf Whyf 

What can you tell of the aothorf 
Point out parts that you like best<> 
Find examples of alliteration. 
Why does the poet repeat ''I am 

Select lines that are espeeiall/ 


Words and Phrases for Discussion 




"Like a lane into heaven 

that leads from a dream" 
"Bending your beauty aside" 
"intricate channels" 
"uttermost creeks" 
"Glynn" — a county in Georgia 

which borders on the Atlantic, 
"live oak" — a species of oak 

found along the coasts of the 

southern states, 
"catholic man" — a broad-minded 

' ' braided dusks ' ' — shadows of 

branches crossing one another, 
"woven shades" — shadows inter- 
"riotous noonday sun" — beating 

down hard, 
"ye held me fast in your heart" — 

attracted and delighted me. 
"I held you fast in mine" — loved, 

"riot is rest "—the heat of the 

day is past, all is quiet. 
" a- wait "—waiting. 

''ponderous gate" — vast western 
horizon at sunset. 

"wood aisle ' ' — path of sun 's rays' 
in the woods at sunset. 

"drunken the soulof the oak"— 
absorbed its strength. 

"scythe of time" — symbol of 

"trowel of trade" — symbol of in- 

"belief overmasters doubt" — inner 
confidence, faith takes the plac« 
of uncertainty. 

"I know that I know" — ^become 
self-confident thro' a Power 
greater than self. 

"My spirit grows to a lordly great 
compass within" — My soul be- 
comes its own confident guide, 
relying on a Power greater than 

"When length was fatigue" — 
tiresome to look at — ^he was un- 
able to understand it. 

' ' breadth Was but bitterness sore ' ' 
— 80" vast ^8 to be disappointing 
and beyond his ability to know 
and control. 


EUon Orammar School Reader Book Four 

''drew over me out of the meri^i- 
less miles of the plain" — The 
vastness of the marshes filled 
him with fear and awe. 

•'sweet visage of space" — He 
came to love the view of the 

"belt of the dawn" — ^the line 
where the gray beach and the 
woods come together is like the 
horizon at daybreak. 

"For a mete and a mark" — a line 
to measure and distinguish the 
limits of the marsh. 

* ' affable live oak ' ' — friendly, 

"lord of the land" — the oak tree. 

' ' sinuous southward ' ' — irregular 
line connecting wood and marsh. 

"fastens the fringe of the marsh 
to the folds of the land" — ^the 
line which marks the coming to- 
gether of the marsh and the land 
— "the shimmering band." 

"gray looping of light" — ^the light 
reflected or thrown back from 
the woods in the dim distance. 

"terminal blue of the main" — ^the 
sea coasty the coast line. 

* ' weighing of fate ' ' — serious 
thoughts of the future. 

"publish yourselves" — to show or 
to expose. 

"offer yourselves" — ^the sea over- 
runs the marsh. 

*' Tolerant plains" — generous, 
broad, liberal. 

"mightily won God out of Knowl- 
edge" — ^won thro' kindness and 
lave, and broad-mindedness. 

^good out of infinite pain" — was 
helped by suffering to become 
noble and true. 

'build me a nest on the greatness 
of Ood" — to establish himself on 
the principles of the great 

'lay me a-hold on the greatness 
of God" — to lay hold of this 
Heavenly beauty and goodness 
and greatness. 

'liberal marshes" — great, broad. 
Thro' these he learned the 
beauty of greatness and of 
broad-mindedness in man, and 
from that to the greatness of 
God was but a natural step. 

'sea lends large" — sends its 
waters out in tides over the 
marsh country twice a day. 

'grace of the sea" — the generous 
, waters of the sea. 

'rosy and silvery essences" — re- 
lates to the color of the water in 
the channel, as determined by 
the setting sun 's rays. 

'passeth a hurrying sound of 
wings ' ' — a sound of wings hurry- 
ing past. 

'is in his ecstasy" — ^the tide has 
reached its highest point — it is 
the moment of accomplishment; 
the task is finished. 

'Vast of the Lord "—The influ- 
ence of God upon men is com- 
pared to that of the tides of the 
sea upon the marshes. 

'waking ken"'— Who can tell us 
the meaning of our dreams! 



'*Stirred up with high hopes of living ta be brave men and worthy patriots, dear to 
God and famotu to €Ul ages," 

John Milton. 

326 Ekon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

25 But if he cannot live, he can at least die, for his country. 
Do not deny him this supreme consolation. Consider! Every 
indignity, every torture which Carthage shall heap on his dying 
hours, will be better than a trumpet's call to your armies. They 
will remember only Begulus, their fellow-soldier and their leader. 

30 They will forget his defeats. They will regard only his services to 
the Bepublic. Tunis, Sicily, Sardinia, every well-fought field, won 
by his blood and theirs, will flash on their remembrance and kindle 
their avenging wrath! 

And so shall Begulus, though dead, fight as he never fought 

35 before against the foe. 

Conscript Fathers, there is another theme, — ^my family. For- 
give the thought. To you and to Bome, I commit them. I leave 
no legacy but my name, no testament but my example. 

And you, ambassadors of Carthage, now in this august presence, 

40 I have spoken, not as you expected. I am your captive. Lead me 
back to whatever fate may await me. Doubt not that you shall 
find that to Boman hearts country is dearer than life, and integrity 
more precious than freedom. 

Epes Sargent, 1812-1880, was an American author and journalist. 
For a number of years he was editor of the ''Boston Evening 
Transcript. ' ' 

Historical: Begulus was a celebrated Roman general. As consul he 
led the Boman forces against the Carthaginians and defeated them in a 
number of engagements, but finally was himself defeated and taken pris- 
oner by the Carthaginians. After five years of captivity he was sent to 
Bome to negotiate for peace and an exchange of prisoners. Though he 
had been premised his liberty, if the Bomans should accept the treaty, yet 
when he appeared before the Boman senate, 'he denounced the terms most 
emphatically. Accordingly he returned to Carthage, where he suffered a 
cruel death. 

' The Return of Regulus 327 



The beams of the rising sun had gilded the lofty domes of 
Carthage, and given, with its rich and mellow light, a tinge of 
beauty even to the frowning ramparts of the outer harbor. 
Sheltered by the verdant shores, a hundred triremes were riding 
5 proudly at their anchors, their brazen beaks glittering in the sun, 
their streamers dancing in the morning breeze, while many a 
shattered plank and timber gave evidence of desperate conflict 
with the fleets of Rome. 

No murmur of business or of revelry arose from the city. The 

10 artisan had forsaken his shop, the judge his tribunal, the priest 
the sanctuary, and even the stem stoic had come forth from his 
retirement to mingle with the crowd that, anxious and agitated, 
were rushing toward the senate-house, startled by the report that 
Regulus had returned to Carthage. 

IS Onward, still onward, trampling each other under foot, they 
rushed, furious with anger, and eager for revenge. Fathers were 
there, whose sons were groaning in fetters; maidens, whose lovers, 
weak and wounded, were dying in the dungeons of Rome, and 
gray-haired men and matrons, whom the Roman sword had left 

20 childless. 

But when the stern features of Regulus were seen, and his 
colossal form towering above the ambassadors who had returned 
with him from Rome ; when the news passed from lip to lip that 
the dreaded warrior, so far from advising the Roman senate to 

25 consent to an exchange of prisoners, had urged them to pursue, 
with exterminating vengeance, Carthage and Carthaginians, — ^the 
multitude swayed to and fro like a forest beneath a tempest, 
and the rage and hate of that tumultuous throng vented itself 
in groans, and curses, and yells of vengeance. 

30 But calm, cold, and immovable as the marble walls around 
him, stood the Roman; and he stretched out his hand over that 

888 Ehon Qfammar School Reader Book Four 

frenzied crowd, with gesture as proudly commanding a3 though 
he stiU stood at the head of the gleaming cohorts of Rome. The 
tumult ceased; the curse, half muttered, died upon the lip; and 

35 fio intense was the silence, that the clanking of the brazen manacles 
uppn the wrists of the captive fell sharp and full upon every ear 
in that vast assembly, as he thus addressed them : — 

**Ye doubtless thought — ^for ye judge of Roman virtue by 
your own — that. I would break my plighted oath, rather than, 

40 returning, brook your vengeance. I might give reasons for this, 
in Punic comprehension, most foolish act of mine. I might 
fipeak of those eternal principles which make death for one^s 
country a pleasure, not a pain. But, by great Jupiter! methinks 
I should debase myself to talk of such high things to you; to 

45 you, expert in womanly inventions; to you, well-skilled to drive 
a treacherous trade with simple Africans for ivory and gold! 

'^If the bright blood that fills my veins, transmitted free from 
godlike ancestry, were like that slimy ooze which stagnates in 
your arteries, I had remained at home, and broke my plighted 

SO oath to save my life. I am a Roman citizen; therefore have I 
retuT««d, that ye might work your will upon this mass of flesh 
,anfl lho9»e8, that I esteem no higher than the rags that cover 

''Here, in your capital, do I defy you. Have I not conquered 

55 your armies, fired your towns, and dragged your generals at my 
chariot wheels, since first my youthful arms could wield a spear? 
And do you think to see me crouch and cower before a tamed 
iind shattered senate ? The tearing of flesh and rending of sinews 
is but pastime compared with the mental agony that heaves my 

60 frame. 

"The moon has scarce yet waned since the proudest of Rome's 
proud matrons, the mother upon whose breast I slept, and whose 
fair brow so oft had bent over me before the noise of battle had 
stirred my blood, or the fierce toil of war nerved my sinews, did, 

65 with fondest memory of bygone hours, entreat me to remain. 

The Return of Regulus 329 

I have seen her, who, when my country called me to the field, 
did buckle on my harness with trembling hands, while the tears 
fell thick and fast down the hard corselet scales — I have seen 
her tear her gray locks and beat her aged breast, as on her knees 

70 she begged me not to return to Carthage ! and all the assembled 
senate of Bome, grave and reverend men, proffered the same 
request. The puny torments which ye have in store to welcome 
me withal, shall be, to what I have endured, even as the murmur 
of a summer's brook to the fierce. roar of angry surges on a rocky 

75 beach. 

^Tiast night, as I lay fettered in my dungeon, I heard a strange, 
ominous sound; it seemed like the distant march of some vast 
army, their harness clanging as they marched, when suddenly 
there stood by me Xanthippus, the Spartan general, by whose 

80 aid you conquered me, and, with a voice as low as when the 
solemn wind moans through the leaflless forest, he thus addressed 
me: — 

"^Roman, I come to bid thee curse, with thy dying breath, 
this fated city: know that in an evil moment, the Carthaginian 

^ generals, furious with rage that I had conquered thee, their 
conqueror, did basely murder me. And then they thought to 
stain my brightest honor. But, for this foul deed, the wrath of 
Jove shall rest upon them here and hereafter.* And then he 

9Q "And now, go bring your sharpest torments. The woes I see 
impending over this guilty realm shall be enough to sweeten death, 
though every nerve and artery were a shooting pang. I die ! but 
my death shall prove a proud triumph; and, for every drop of 
blood ye from my veins do draw, your own shall flow in rivers. 

55 'Woe to thee, Carthage ! Woe to the proud city of the waters I 
I see thy nobles wailing at the feet of Roman senators ! thy citizens 
in terror! thy ships in flames! I hear the victorious shouts of 
Bome! I see her eagles glittering on thy ramparts. Proud city, 
thou art doomed! The curse of God is on thee — ^a clinging, 

330 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

lOOwasting curse. It shall not leave thy gates till hungry flames 
shall lick the fretted gold from oflE thy proud palaces, and every 
biook runs crimson to the sea/' 



It had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus, returning 
with victorious eagles, had amused the populace with the sports 
of the amphitheatre to an extent hitherto unknown even in that 
luxurious city. The shouts of revelry had died away; the roar 

5 of the lion had ceased; the last loiterer had retired from the 
banquet, and the lights in the palace of the victor were extin- 
guished. The moon, piercing the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered 
the dewdrop on the corselet of the Boman sentinel, and tipped the 
dark waters of Volturnus with wavy, tremulous light. It was a 

10 night of holy calm, when the zephyr sways the young spring leaves, 
and whispers among the hollow reeds its dreamy music. No sound 
was heard but the last sob of some weary wave, telling its story 
to the smooth pebbles of the beach, and then all was still as the 
breast when the spirit has departed. 

15 In the deep recesses of the amphitheatre a band of gladiators 
were crowded together, — their muscles still knotted with the agony 
of conflict, the foam upon their lips, and the scowl of battle yet 
lingering upon their brows, — ^when Spartacus, rising in the midst 
of that grim assemblage, thus addressed them: — 

20 "Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief who, for 
twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape of man 
or beast that the broad Empire of Bome could furnish, and yet 
never has lowered his arm. And if there be one among you who 
can say that, ever, in public fight or private brawl, my actions did 

2S belie my tongue, let him step forth and say it. If there be three 

Spariactts to th$ ^Hudiators 331 

in all your throng dare face me on the bloody sand, let them 
come on! 

"Yet, I was not always thus, a hired butcher, a savage chief 
of savage men. My father was a reverent man, who feared great 

30 Jupiter, and brought to the rural deities his oflEerings of fruits 
and flowers. He dwelt among the vineclad rocks and olive groves 
at the foot of Helicon. My early life ran quiet as the brook by 
which I sported. I was taught to prune the vine, to tend the flock ; 
and then, at noon, I gathered my sheep beneath the shade, and 

35 played upon the shepherd^s flute. I had a friend, the son of our 
neighbor; we led our flocks to the same pasture, and shared 
together our rustic meal. 

"One evening, after the sheep were folded, and we were all 
seated beneath the myrtle that' shaded our cottage, my grandsire, 

40 an old man, was telling of Marathon and Leuctra, and how, in 
ancient times, a little band of Spartans, in a defile of the moun- 
tains, withstood a whole army. I did not then know what war 
meant; but my cheeks burned. I knew not why; and I clasped 
the knees of that venerable man, till my mother, parting the hair 

45 from off my brow, kissed my throbbing temples, and bade me go 
to rest, and think no more of those .old tales and savage wars. 

'That very night the Bomans landed on our shore, and the 
clash of steel was heard within our quiet vale. I saw the breast 
that had nourished me trampled by the iron hoof of the war- 

50 horse; the bleeding body of my father flung amid the blazing 
rafters of our dwelling. To-day I killed a man in the arena, and 
when I broke his helmet clasps, behold! he was my friend! He 
knew me, — smiled faintly, — gasped, — and died; the same sweet 
smile that I had marked upon his face when, in adventurous boy- 

55 hood, we scaled some lofty cliff to pluck the first ripe grapes, and 
bear them home in childish triumph. I told the prsetor he was 
my friend, noble and brave, and I begged his body, that I might 
bum it upon the funeral-pile, and mourn over him. Ay, on my 
knees, amid the dust and blood of the arena, I begged that boon, 

80 while all the Roman maids and matrons, and those holy virgins 

332 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

they call vestal, and the rabble, shouted in mockery, deeming it 
rare sport, forsooth, to see Rome's fiercest gladiator turn pale, and 
tremble like a very child, before that piece of bleeding clay; but 
the praetor drew back as if I were pollution, and sternly said, Tjct 

65 the carrion rot! There are no noble men but Romans!' And 
he, deprived of funeral rites, must wander, a hapless ghost, beside 
the waters of that sluggish river, and look — ^and look — and look 
in vain to the bright Elysian Fields where dwell his ancestors 
and noble kindred. And so must you, and so must I, die like dogs ! 

70 "0 Rome ! Rome ! thou hast been a tender nurse to me ! Ay, 
thou hast given to that poor, gentle, timid shepherd-lad, who 
never knew a harsher sound than a flute-note, muscles of irou and 
a heart of flint; taught him to drive the sword through rugged 
brass and plaited mail, and warm it in the marrow of his foe! 

75 to gaze into the glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian lion, even 
as a smooth-cheeked boy upon a laughing girl. And he shall pay 
thee back till thy yellow Tiber is red as frothing wine, and in 
its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies curdled ! 

"Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are ! the strength of brass 

80 is in your toughened sinews ; but to-morrow some Roman Adonis, 
breathing sweet odors from his curly locks, shall come, and with 
his lily fingers pat your brawny shoulders, and bet his sesterces 
upon your blood ! Hark ! Hear ye yon lion roaring in his den ? 'Tis 
three days since he tasted meat; but to-morrow he shall break 

85 his fast upon your flesh; and ye shall be a dainty meal for him. 

"If ye are brutes, then stand here like fat oxen waiting for the 

butcher's knife ; if ye are men, follow me ! strike down yon sentinel, 

and gain the mountain passes, and there do bloody work as did 

your sires at old Thermopylae ! Is Sparta dead ? Is the old Grecian 

90 spirit frozen in your veins, that you do crouch ar.d cower like base- 
bom slaves beneath your master's lash? comrades! warriors! 
Thracians! if we must fight, let us fight for ourselves; if we 
must slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors; if we must die, 
let us die under the open sky, by the bright waters, in noble, 

85 honorable battle." 

Merit Before Birth 333 

Biographical and Historical: This is a supposed speech of Spartacus 
written by Elijah Kellogg, a New England clergyman. Spartacus was 
a Thracian by birth, who served in the Boman army. Having deserted, 
he was taken prisoner, sold as a slave, and trained as a gladiator at 
Capua. He escaped and gathered about him a large army of slaves and 
gladiators, with whom he intended to push northward and allow them all 
to return to their homes. They, however, after attacking many towns, 
were finally overcome. Spartacus himself died in battle, and six thousand 
slaves were crucified on the road from Capua to Bome. 

Capua was a city of great luxury, containing an amphitheater nearly 
as large as the Coliseum at Bome. The ancients attached great impor- 
tance to the rites of burial, and believed that the soul could not reach 
the Elysian Fields unless the body had been buried. 



You have committed to my conduct, Romans, the war against 
Jugurtha. The patricians take ojffence. They say, "Why, he 
has no family statues. He can point to no illustrious ancestors." 
What of that? Will dead ancestors or motionless statues fight 

5 battles ? Can your general appeal to them in the hour of extremest 
clanger? How wise it would be, surely, to intrust your army to 
some untried person without a single scar, but with any number 
of ancestral statues, — who knows not the simplest rudiments of 
military service, but is very perfect in pedigree! I have known 

10 such holiday heroes, raised, because of family, to positions for 
which they had no fitness. But, then, in the moment of action 
they were obliged, in their ignorance and trepidation, to intrust 
every movement, even the most simple, to some subaltern, some 
despised plebeian. 

IS What they have seen in books, I have seen written on battle- 
fields, with steel and blood. They sneer at my mean origin. 
Where, — and may the gods bear witness, — where, but in the spirit 
of man, is nobility lodged ? Tell these despicable railers that their 

334 Elso7i Grammar School Reader Book Four 

haughty lineage cannot make them noble, nor will my humble 
20 birth make me base. I profess no indiflEerence to noble descent; 
but when a descendant is dwarfed in the comparison, it should be 
a shame, and not a matter to boast of ! I can show the standards, 
the armor, and the spoils which I have in person wrested from the 
vanquished. I can show the scars of many wounds received in 
25 combating the enemies of Bome. These are my statues ! These 
are my honors, to boast of; not inherited by accident, but earned 
by toil, by abstinence, by valor, amid clouds of dust and seas 
of blood. Their titles date from similar acts of their ancestors; 
but these detractors did not even dare to appear on the field as 
30 spectators. These are my credentials! These, Romans, are 
my titles of nobility ! Tell me, are they not as deserving of your 
confidence and reward as those of which any patrician of them 
all can boast? 

Biographical and Historical: SaUust, the author of this selection, was 
a famous Boman historian of the first century B. C. Caius Marius was 
the son of a small farmer and worked his way up from this humble 
origin to the highest position, that of consul, in spite of the determined 
opposition of the senate, and the aristocracy. By the vote of the 
-Boman people, he was given command of the army in the campaign 
against Jugurtha, a prince who had usurped the Numidian throne. 



Friends ! 
I come not here to talk. You know too well 
The story of our thralldom. We are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
A race of slaves ! he sets, and his last beam 
Falls on a slave ! — ^not such as, swept along 
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads 
To crimson glory and undying fame. 
But base, ignoble slaves — slaves to a horde 

Sienzi's Address to the Romans 335 

10 Of petty tyrants; feudal despots; lords, 

Bich in some dozen paltry villages, 
Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great 
In that strange spell — a name. 

Each hour dark fraud, 

15 Or open rapine, or protected murder, 

Cry out against them. But this very day, 
An honest man, my neighbor — ^there he stands — 
Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore 
The badge of TJrsini, because, forsooth, 

20 He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 

Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts 
At sight of that great ruflSan ! Be we men, 
And suffer such dishonor? — Men, and wash not 
The stain away in blood? 

25 Such shames are common. 

I have known deeper wrongs. I that speak to you, 

I had a brother once, a gracious boy. 

Full of gentleness, of calmest hope. 

Of sweet and quiet joy : there was the look 

30 Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 

To the beloved disciple. How I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years. 
Brother at once and son! He left my side, 
A summer bloom on his fair cheek, a smile 

35 Parting his innocent lips : in one short hour. 

The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance! 

Bouse ye, Bomans! rouse ye, slaves! 
40 Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl 

To see them die. Have ye fair daughters? Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained. 
Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice. 
Be answered by the lash! 

336 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

45 Yet this is Borne, 

That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne 
Of beauty ruled the world ! Yet we are Bomans ! 
Why, in that elder day, to be a Boman 
Was greater than a king ! And, once again, — 

50 Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 

Of either Brutus !^-once again, I swear. 
The Eternal City shall be free I 

Biographical and Historical: Mary BusseU Mitford, born in 1787. 
was an English writer of miscellaneous works. Among her most noted 
productions is the tragedy ''Bienzi," which was presented in London in 
1828. It is the story of the Boman patriot, Bienzi, who led a revolution 
at Borne in 1347. He overthrew the power of the aristocracy and intro- 
duced many reforms in the government. After establishing himself in 
power, however, he is said to have become in turn haughty and arbitrary. 


My Lords : What have I to say why sentence of death should 
not be pronounced on me, according to law? I have nothing to 
say that can alter your predetermination, nor that it will become 
me to say with any view to the mitigation of that sentence which 

5 you are here to pronounce, and I must abide by. But I have 
that to say which interests me more than life, and which you have 
labored to destroy. I have much to say why my reputation should 
be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny which 
has been heaped upon it. 

10 Were I only to sujffer death, after being adjudged guilty by 
your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate that 
awaits me without a murmur; but the sentence of law which 
delivers my body to the executioner will, through the ministry 
of that law, labor, in its own vindication, to consign my character 

15 to obloquy; for there must be guilt somewhere — whether in the 
sentence of the court, or in the catastrophe, posterity must deter- 

Emmefs Vindication 33? 

mine. The man dies, but his memory lives. That mine may 
not perish — ^that it may live in the respect of my countrymen — 
I seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the 

20 charges alleged against me. 

When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port ; when 
my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes 
who have shed their blood, on the scaffold and in the field, in 
defense of their country and virtue ; this is my hope— I wish that 

25 my memory and name may animate those who survive me, while 
I look down with complacency on the destruction of that per- 
fidious government which upholds its domination by blasphemy 
of the Most High, which displays its powers over man as over 
the beasts of the forest, which sets man upon his brother, and 

30 lifts his hand, in the name of God, against the throat of his 
fellow who believes or doubts a little more or less than the govern- 
ment standard — a government which is steeled to barbarity by the 
cries of the orphans and the tears of the widows which its cruelty 
has made. 

35 I swear by the throne of Heaven, before which I must shortly 
appear — ^by the blood of the murdered patriots who have gone 
before me — ^that my conduct has been, through all this peril and 
all my purposes, governed only by the convictions which I have 
uttered, and no other view than that of the emancipation of my 

40 country from the superinhuman oppression under which she has 
80 long and too patiently travailed; and that I confidently and 
assuredly hope, wild and chimerical as it may appear, that there 
is still union and strength in Ireland to accomplish this noble 

45 My country was my idol. To it I sacrificed every selfish, 
every endearing sentiment; and for it I now offer up my life! 
I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my coimtry from 
the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny, and from the more 
galling yoke of a domestic faction, its joint partner and perpetrator 

SO in the patricide, whose reward is the ignominy of existing with 
an exterior of splendor and a consciousness of depravity. It was 

338 Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

the wish of my heart to extricate my country from this doubly 
riveted despotism. I wished to place her independence beyond 
the reach of any power on ea-rth. I wished to exalt her to that 

55 proud station in the world which Providence had fitted her to fill. 
Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dishonor; 
let no man attaint ihy miemory by believing that I could have 
engaged in any cause but that of my country's liberty and inde- 
pendence, or that I could have become the pliant minion of power 

60 in the oppression or th^ miseries of my countrymen. I would not 
have submitted to a foreign oppressor, for the same reason that 
I would resist the domestic tyrant; in the dignity of freedom 
I would have fought upon the threshold of my country, and her 
enemies should enter only by passing over my lifeless corpse. 

65 Am I, who lived but for my country, and who have subjected 
myself to the vengeance of the jealous and wrathful oppressor, 
and to the bondage of the grave, only to give my countrymen 
their rights and my country her independence — am I to be loaded 
with calumny, and not to be suffered to resent or repel it? No! 

70 God forbid! 

If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns 
and cares of those who are dear to them in this transitory life, 
ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father, look 
down with scrutiny on the conduct of your suffering son, and see 

75 if I have even for a moment deviated from those principles of 
morality and patriotism which it was your care to instill into 
my youthful mind, and for an adherence to which I am now to 
offer up my life ! 

My Lords, you are all impatient for the sacrifice. The blood 

80 which you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors which 
surround your victim ; it circulates warmly and unruflSed through 
the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which 
you are bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous that they cry 
to Heaven! 

85 Be ye patient; I have but a few words more to say. I am 
going to my silent grave; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished; 

King Philip to the White Settler 339 

my race is run; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into 
its bosom. I have but one request to ask at my departure from 
this world — it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my 

90 epitaph ; for, as no one who knows my motives dare now vindicate 
them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and 
me repose in obscurity and peaee, and my tomb remain unin- 
scribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my 
character. When my country shall take her place among the 

95 nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be 
written ! I have done. 

Biographical and Historical: During the latter part of tke eighteenth 
century and the beginning of the nineteenth, the spirit of independence 
was abroad. The American Revolution was followed by the French Rev- 
olution, and in 1803 Robert Emmet, an Irish patriot, headed a band to 
gain independence f«r Ireland. After an unsuccessful attempt to take 
the arsenal and castle at Dublin, he fled to the Wicklow mountains, 
whence he planned to escape to the continent. Contrary to the advice 
of his friends, he determined to have a last interview with his sweet- 
heart, but the delay proved fatal to him. He was seized and condemned 
to death. This extract is from the remarkably eloquent speech with 
which he vainly defended himself. 



Think of the country for which the Indians fought. Who 
can blame them ? As Philip looked down from his seat on Mount 
Hope, that glorious eminence, that 

-throne of royal state, which far 

Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 
Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, 
Showers en her kings barbaric pearl and gold," — 

as he looked down, and beheld the lovely scene which spread 
beneath, at a summer sunset, the distant hill-tops glittering as 

340 Elson Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

10 with fii;e, the slanting beams streaming across the waters, the 
broad plains, the island groups, the majestic forest,— could he be 
blamed, if his heart bumed within him, as he beheld it all passing, 
by no tardy process, from beneath his control, into the hands of 
the stranger? 

15 As the river chieftains — ^the lords of the waterfalls and the 
mountains — ranged this lovely valley, can it be wondered at, if 
they beheld with bitterness the forest disappearing beneath the 
settler's ax — ^the fishing-place disturbed by his saw-mills? Can 
we not fancy the feelings with which some strong-minded savage, 

20 the chief of the Pocomtuck Indians, who should have ascended the 
summit of the Sugar-loaf Mountain (rising as it does before us, 
at this moment, in all its loveliness' and grandeur), — in company 
with a friendly settler,— contemplating the progress already made 
by the white man, and marking the gigantic strides with which 

25 he was advancing into the wilderness, should fold his arms and 
say, ^TVhite man, there is eternal war between me and thee! I 
quit not the land of my fathers, but with my life. In those woods, 
where I bent my youthful bow, I will still hunt the deer; over 
yonder waters I will still glide, unrestrained, in my bark canoe. 

30 By those dashing waterfalls I will still lay up my winter's store 
of food ; on these fertile meadows I will still plant my com. 

"Stranger, the land is mine! I understand not these paper 
rights. I gave not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these broad 
regions were purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. They 

35 could sell what was theirs; they could sell no more. How could 
my fathers sell that which the Great Spirit sent me into the world 
to live upon? They knew not what they did. 

"The stranger came, a timid suppliant, — few and feeble, and 
asked to lie down on the red man's bear-skin, and warm himself 

40 at the red man's fire, and have a little piece of land to raise corn 
for his women and children; and now he is become strong, and 
mighty, and bold, and spreads out his parchments over the whole, 
and says, 'It is mine.' 

King Philip to the White Settler 341 

"Stranger! there is not room for ns both. The Great Spirit 

45 has not made us to live together. There is poison in the white 
man's cup; the white man's dog barks at the red man's heels. 
If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I fly? 
Shall I go to the south, and dwell among the graves of the 
Pequots? Shall I wander to the west, the fierce Mohawk, — the 

50 man-eater, — is my foe. Shall I fly to the east, the great water 
is before me. No, stranger; here I have lived, and here will 
I die; and if here thou abidest, there is eternal war between 
me and thee. 

"Thou hast taught me thy arts of destruction; for that alone 

55 I thank thee. And now take heed to thy steps; the red man is 
thy foe. When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle 
past thee; when thou liest down by night, my knife is at thy 
throat. The noonday sun shall not discover thy enemy, and the 
darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant 

50 in terror, and I will reap in blood; thou shalt sow the earth with 
com, and I will strew it with ashes; thou shalt go forth with 
the sickle, and I will follow after with the scalping-knif e ; thou 
shalt build, and I will biim, — ^till the white man or the Indian 
perish from the land. Go thy way for this time in safety, — but 

65 reinember, stranger, there is eternal war between me and thee!'" 

Biographical and Historical: Edward Everett was a celebrated 
American orator and statesman. His career was varied, but he will be 
remembered chiefly through his essays and orations. He was in turn 
clergyman, professor of Greek at Harvard, representative in Congress^ 
governor of Massachusetts, minister to England, president of Harvard,, 
and secretary of state. He died at the close of the Civil War. 

This extract is from an address delivered at Bloody Brook, South 
Deerfield, Mass., September 30, 1835, in commemoration of the death of 
many colonists in that spot during King Philip's War, September 18^ 
1675. King Philip, son of Massasoit, was an Indian chief who resented 
the cominjg of the white man and, gathering many Indian tribes about 
him, waged bitter war against the colonists. He himself was killed at 
Mount Hope, Hhode Island. 

342 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

(From "Montcalm and Wolfe.'**) 


The sun rose, and, from the ramparts of Quebec, the astonished 
people saw the Plains of Abraham glittering with arms, and the 
dark-red lines of the English forming in array of battle. Breath- 
less messengers had borne the evil tidings to Montcalm, and far 
5 and near his wide-extended camp resounded with the rolling of 
alarm drums and the din of startled preparation. 

He, too, had had his struggles and his sorrows. The civil 
power had thwarted him; famine, discontent, and disaffection 
were rife among his soldiers; and no small portion of the Canadian 

10 militia had dispersed from sheer starvation. In spite of all, he 
had trusted to hold out till the winter frosts* should drive the 
invaders from before the town ; when, on that disastrous morning, 
the news of their successful temerity fell like a cannon-shot upon 
his ear. 

IS Still he assumed a tone of confidence. "They have got to the 
weak side of us at last,** he is reported to have said, "and we must 
crush them with our numbers." With headlong haste, his troops 
were pouring over the bridge of the St. Charles, and gathering 
in heavy masses under the western ramparts of the town. Could 

20 numbers give assurance of success, their triumph would have been 

secure ; for five French battalions and the armed colonial peasantry 

amounted in all to more than seven thousand five hundred men. 

Full in sight before them stretched the long, thin lines of the 

British forces, the half-wild Highlanders, the steady soldiery of 

25 England, and the hardy levies of the provinces, — less than five 
thousand in number, but all inured to battle, and strong in the full 
assurance of success. 

Yet, could the chiefs of that gallant army have pierced the 
secrets of the future, could they have foreseen that the victory 

30 which they burned to achieve would have robbed England of her 
proudest boast, that the conquest of Canada would pave the way 

The Capture of Quebec 343 

for the independence of America, their swords would, have dropped 
from their hands, and the heroic fire have gone out within their 

35 It was nine o'clock, and the adverse armies stood motionless^ 
each gazing on the other. The clouds hung low, and, at intervals, 
warm light showers descended, besprinkling both alike. The 
coppice and cornfields in front of the British troops were filled 
with French sharp-shooters, who kept up a distant, spattering 

(0 fire. Here and there a soldier fell in the ranks, and the gap was 
filled in silence. 

At a little before ten, the British could see that Montcalm was 
preparing to advance, and, in a few moments, air his troops 
appeared in rapid motion. They came on in three divisions^ 

45 shouting after the manner of their nation, and firing heavily 
as soon as they came within range. 

In the British ranks, not a trigger was pulled, not a soldier 
stirred; and their ominous composure seemed to damp the spirits 
of the assailants. It was not till the French were within forty 

50 yards that the fatal word was given, and the British muskets 
blazed forth at once in one crashing explosion. Like a ship at full 
career, arrested with sudden ruin on a sunken rock, the ranks of 
Montcalm staggered, shivered, and broke before that wasting storm 
of lead. 

S5 The smoke, rolling along the field, for a moment shut out the 
view; but when the white wreaths were scattered on the wind, 
a wretched spectacle was disclosed; men and ofiScers tumbled in 
heaps, battalions resolved into a mob, order and obedience gone; 
and when the British muskets were leveled for a second volley, 

W the masses of the militia were seen to cower and shrink with 
uncontrollable panic. 

For a few minutes, the French regulars stood their ground, 
returning a sharp and not ineffectual fire. But now; echoing cheer 
on cheer, redoubling volley on volley, trampling the dying and 

^ the dead, and driving the fugitives in crowds, the British troops 
advanced and swept the field before them. The ardor of the men 

344 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

burst all restraint. They broke into a run, and with unsparing 
slaughter chased the flying multitude to the gates of Quebec. 
Foremost of all, the light-footed Highlanders dashed along in 
70 furious pursuit, hewing down the Frenchmen with their broad- 
swords, and slaying many in the very ditch of the fortifications. 
Never was victory more quick or more decisive. 

Biographical and Historical: Francis Parkman is one of America's 
greatest historians. He took for his theme the great conflict between 
the English, the French, and the Indians on the frontiers of the northern 
new world. He was not only a historian of genius, but was gifted with 
a delightful style. His books are full of the fragrance of woods and 
streams and the fresh, free air of the plains and the mountains. 



England's hold of the colonies is in the close aflfection which 
grows from common names, from kindred blood, from similar 
privileges, and equal protection. These are ties, which, though 
light as air, are as strong as links of iron. Let the colonies always 
5 keep the idea of their civil rights associated with your govern- 
ment; they will cling and grapple to you, and no force under 
heaven will be of power to tear them from their allegiance. But 
let it once be understood that your government may be one thing, 
and their privileges another; that these two things may exist 

10 without any mutual relation — ^the cement is gone; the cohesion 
is loosened; and everything hastens to decay and dissolution. As 
long as you have the wisdom to keep the sovereign authority of 
this country £ts the sanctuary of liberty, the sacred temple conse- 
crated to our common faith; wherever the chosen race and sons 

15 of England worship freedom, they will turn their faces toward 
you. The more they multiply, the more friends you will have; 

England and Her Colonies 345 

the more ardently they love liberty, the more perfect will be their 
obedience. Slavery they can have anywhere. It is a weed that 
grows in every soil. They may have it from Spain; they may 

20 have it from Prussia; but, until you become lost to all feelings 
of your true interest and your natural dignity, freedom they can 
have from none but you. This is the commodity of price of which 
you have the monopoly. This is the true Act of Navigation, which 
binds to you the commerce of the colonies, and through them 

25 secures to you the wealth of the world. Deny them this partici- 
pation of freedom, and you break that sole bond which originally 
made, and must still preserve, the unity of the empire. Do not 
entertain so weak an imagination as that your registers and your 
bonds, your affidavits and your sufferances, are what form the 

30 great securities of your commerce. Do not dream that your letters 
of office, and your instructions, and your suspending clauses, are 
the things that hold together the great contexture of this mysterious 
whole. These things do not make your government. Dead instru- 
ments, passive tools as they are, it is the spirit of the English 

35 communion that gives all their life and eflBcacy to them. It is 
the spirit of the English constitution, which, infused through the 
mighty mass, pervades, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivifies every 
part of the empire, even down to the minutest member. Is it not 
the same virtue which does everjrthing for us here in England? 

40 Do you imagine, then, that it is the land tax which raises 
your revenue? That it is the annual vote in the committee of 
supply which gives you your army? Or that it is the mutiny 
bill which inspires it with bravery and discipline? No ! surely no ! 
It is the love of the people ; it is their attachment to their govern- 

15 ment, from the sense of the deep stake they have in such a glorious 
institution, which gives you your army and your navy, and 
infuses into both that liberal obedience without which your army 
would be a base rabble and your navy nothing but rotten timber. 

Biographical and Historical: Edmnnd Burke was a British statesman 
of Irish birth, who lived at the time of the American Revolution. While 
William Pitt opposed, in the House of Lords, the policy of the British 

346 EUon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

goyernment, Edmund Burke delivered, in the House of CommonB, his 
famous speech on the Conciliation of the Colonies, March 22, 1775. This 
extract is taken from the closing paragraphs of this celebrated speech. 



CouBTEOUS Beader: I have heard that nothing gives an 
author so great pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted 
by others. Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified 
by an incident I am going to relate to you. 

5 I stopped my horse, lately, where a great number of people 
were collected at an auction of merchants' goods. The hour of 
the sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness 
of the times; and one of the company called to a plain, clean old 
man, with white locks: *Tray, Father Abraham, what think you 

10 of the times? Will not these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? 
How shall we ever be able to pay them? What would you advise 
us to do? 

Father Abraham stood up and replied: "If you would have 
my advice, I will give it to you in short ; for *a word to the wise 

15 is enough,' as Poor Bichard says.*' They joined in desiring him 
to speak his mind, and, gathering around him, he proceeded as 
follows: "Friends,'* said he, "the taxes are indeed very heavy; 
and, if those laid on by the Government were the only ones we had 
to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have many 

20 others, and much more grievous to some of us. 

**We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as 
much by our pride, and four times as much by our folly; and 
of these taxes the commissioners can not ease or deliver us by 
allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, 

25 and something may be done for us. heaven fielps them that help 
themselves,' as Poor Sichard says. 

The Way to Wealth 347 

"It would be thought a hard government that should tax its 
people one tenth part of their time to be employed in its service; 
but idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, by bringing 

30 on diseases, absolutely shortens life. 'Sloth, like rust, consumes 
faster than labor wears; while the used key is always bright,' as 
Poor Bichard says. How much more than is necessary do we 
spend in sleep ! forgetting that 'the sleeping fox catches no poultry,' 
and that there will be sleeping enough in the grave. 

35 '''Lost time is never found again; and what we call time 
enough, always proves little enough/ Let us, then, be up and 
doing, and doing to the purpose ; so by diligence shall we do more 
with less perplexity. 'Drive thy business, and let not that drive 
thee'; and 'early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, 

40 wealthy, and wise,' as Poor Bichard says. 

"So, what signifies wishinig and hoping for better times? We 
may make these times better if we bestir ourselves. 'Industry 
need not wish, and he that lives upon hopes will die fasting.' 
'There are no gains without pains; then help hands, for I have 

45 no lands.' 'He that hath a trade, hath an estate; and he that 
hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honor'; but then the 
trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither 
the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. Work 
while it is called to-day, for you know not how much you may 

SO be hindered to-morrow. 'One to-day is worth two to-morrows,' 
as Poor Bichard says ; and further, 'Never leave that till to-morrow 
which you can do to-day.' 

"If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good 
master should catch you idle? Are you, then, your own master? 

55 Be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be 
done for yourself, your family, and your country. It is true, there 
is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick 
to it steadily, and you will see great eflPects ; for 'constant dropping 
wears away stones,' and 'little strokes fell great oaks.' 

^ "But with our industry we must likewise be steady, settled, 
and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and 

348 EUon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard says, 'Three 
removes are as bad as a fire' ; and again, ^Keep thy shop, and thy 
shop will keep thee' ; and again, ^If you would have your business 

65 done, go; if not, send'; and again, ^The eye of the master will 
do more work than both his hands'; and again, 'Want of care 
does us more damage than want of knowledge.' 

"So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's 
own business; but to these we must add frugality, if we would 

70 make our industry more certainly successful. A man may,* if he 
knows not how to save as he gets, keep his nose to the grindstone 
all his life, and die not worth a groat at last. 'If you would 
be wealthy, think of saving as well as of getting.' 

"Away with your expensive follies, and you will not then have 

75 so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and charge- 
able families; for 'what maintains one vice would bring up two 
children.' Beware of little expenses. 'Many a little makes a 
mickle'; 'A small leak will sink a great ship.' Here you are all 
got together, at this sale of fineries and knickknacks. You call 

80 them goods, but, if you do not take care, they will prove evils 
to some of you. 

"You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may 
be, for less than cost ; but, if you have no occasion for them, they 
must be dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says : 'Buy 

85 what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy neces- 
saries.' 'Silks, satins, scarlet, and velvets put out the kitchen 
fire.' These are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be 
called the conveniences; and -yet, only because they look pretty, 
how many want to have them! 

90 "By these and other extravagances, the greatest are reduced 
to poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly 
despised, but who, through industry and frugality, have maintained 
their standing. 'If you would know the value of money, go and 
try to borrow some ; for he that goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing' ; 

95 and, indeed, so does he that lends to such people, when he goes 
to get it again. 

The Way to Wealth 349 

'^t is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the 
frog to swell in order to equal the ox. After all, this pride of 
appearance can not promote health, nor ease pain; it 'makes no 

100 increase of merit in the person; it creates envy; it hastens 

**But what madness it must be to run in debt for superfluities ! 
Think what you do when you run in debt: you give to another 
power over your liberty. If you can not pay at the time, you will 

105 be ashamed to see your creditor; you will be in fear when you 
speak to him; you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and 
by degrees come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, down- 
right lying; for Hhe second vice is lying, the first is running in 
debt,' as Poor Richard says; and again, 'Lying rides upon debt's 

110 back/ 

"This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom ; but industry, 
and frugality, and prudence may all be blasted without the blessing 
of Heaven. Therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not 
uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort 

US and help them.*' 

The old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard 
it, and approved the doctrine, and immediately practiced the 
contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon ; for the auction 
opened, and they began to buy extravagantly. I found the good 

120 man had thoroughly studied my almanac, and digested all I had 
dropped on these topics during the course of twenty-five years. 
The frequent mention he made of me must have tired any one 
else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though 
I was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own 

125 which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made 
of the sense of all ages and nations. 

However, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and, 
although I had at first determined to buy stufip for a new coat, 
I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, 

130 if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine. — 
I am, as ever, thine to serve thee. 

350 Ebon Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Biographical and Historical: These are paragraphs selected from 
Benjamin Franklin's **Way to Wealth," about which he has the follow- 
ing to say in his Autobiography: **In 1732, I first published my Alma- 
nac, under the name of 'Bichard Saunders'; it was continued by me 
about twenty- five years, and commonly called 'Poor Bichard's Almanac' 
I filled aH the little spaces that occurred between the remarkable days 
in the calendar with proverbial sentences, chiefly such as inculcated in- 
dustry and frugality as the means of procuring wealth, and thereby 
securing virtue. These proverbs, which contained the wisdom of many 
ages and nations, I assembled and formed into a connected discourse, 
prefixed to the Almanac of 1757 as the harangue of a wise old man to 
the people attending an auction. The bringing all these scattered coun- 
sels thus into a focus enabled them to make greater impression." 



Mr. Pbesident, — No man thinks more highly than I do of the 
patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who 
have just addressed the House. But different men often see the 
same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not 
5 be thought disrespectful to those gentlfemen, if, entertaining, as 
I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak 
forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time 
for ceremony. The question before the House is one of awful 
moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing 

10 less than a question of freedom or slavery ; and in proportion to 
the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. 
It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfil 
the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. 
Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear 

15 of giving offence, I should consider myself as guilty of treason 
towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty towards the 
Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings. 

Speech on a Resolution 351 

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions 
of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and 

20 listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. 
Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous 
struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of 
those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the 
things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my 

25 part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know 
the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided ; and that 
is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the 
future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know 

30 what there has been in the conduct of the British Ministry for the 
last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have 
been pleased to solace themselves and the House? Is it that 
insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? 
Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not 

35 yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this 
gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike 
preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are 
fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? 
Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force 

40 must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive our- 
selves. Sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation — 
the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask, sir, what means 
this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? 
Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has 

45 Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for 
all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. 
They are meant for us ; they can be meant for no other. They are 
sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British 
Ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose 

SO to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that 
for the last ten years. Have we anything new to oflfer upon the 
subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light 

352 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we 
resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? What terms shall we 

55 find, which have not been already exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech 
you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything 
that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. 
We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; 
we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored 

60 its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the Ministry 
and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remon- 
strances have produced additional violence and insult; our sup- 
plications have been disregarded ; and we have been spumed, with 
contempt, from the foot of the throne ! In vain, after these things, 

65 may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There 
is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free — if we mean 
to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we 
have been so long contending — ^if we mean not basely to abandon 
the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and 

70 which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until the 
glorious object of our contest shall be obtained — we must fight! 
I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the 
God of Hosts is all that is left us ! 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so 

75 formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will 
it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be whenr we are 
totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in 
every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inac- 
tion? Shall we acquire the means of eflfectual resistance by lying 

80 supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope 
until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? 

Sir, we are not weak, if we inake a proper use of those means 
which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions 
of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country 

85 as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our 

.enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our 

battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destimcs 

The Man Without a Country 353 

of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for 
us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, 

90 the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we 
were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the 
contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery I Our 
chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains 
of Boston ! The war is inevitable — ^and let it come I I repeat it, 

95 sir, let it come ! 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may 
cry, Peace, peace! — ^but there is no peace. The war is actually 
begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring 
to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are 

100 already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that 
gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace 
BO sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? 
Forbid it. Almighty God! I know not what course others may 
take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death! 

Biographical and Historical: Patrick Henry was an American 
patriot and orator whose eloquent speech was a powerful force in mould- 
ing public opinion at the time of the Bevolution. This famous speech 
was made in the Virginia Convention, March 28, 1775, and is an appeal 
to place the colonies in a state of defence. 



I first came to understand anything about "the man without 
a country*' one day when we over-hauled a dirty little schooner 
which had slaves on board. An officer was sent to take charge 
of her, and, after a few minutes, he sent back his boat to ask that 
5 someone might be sent him who could talk Portuguese. But none 
of the officers did ; and just as the captain was sending forward 
to ask if any of the people could, Nolan stepped out and said he 
should be glad to interpret, if the captain wished, as he under- 

354 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

stood the language. The captain thanked him, fitted out another 

10 boat with him, and in this boat it was my luck to go. 

There were not a great many of the negroes; most of them 
were out of the hold and swarming all round the dirty deck, with 
a central throng surrounding Vaughan. "Tell tiiem they are free, 
Nolan/' said Vaughan; "and tell them that I will take them 

IS all to Cape Palmas.'* 

Cape Palmas was practically as far from the homes of most 
of them as New Orleans or Rio Janeiro was; that is, they would 
be eternally separated from home there. And their interpreters, 
as we could understand, instantly said, "Ah, non Palmas.'' The 

20 drops stood on poor Nolan's white forehead, as he hushed the men 
down, and said: 

"He says, ^Not Palmas.' He says, ^Take us home, take us to 
our own country, take us to our own house, take us to our own 
pickaninnies and our own women.' He says he has an old father 

25 and mother who will die if they do not see him. And this one 
says," choked out Nolan, "that he has not heard a word from 
his home in six months." 

Even the negroes stopped howling, as they saw Nolan's agony, 
and Vaughan's almost equal agony of sympathy. As quick as he 

30 could get words, Vaughan said: 

"Tell them, yes, yes, yes ; tell them they shall go to the Moun- 
tains of the Moon, if they will." 

And after some fashion Nolan said so. And then they all 
fell to kissing him again. 

35 But he could not stand it long; and getting Vaughan to say 
he might go back, he beckoned me down into our boat. As we lay 
back in the stem-sheets and the men gave way, he said to me: 
"Youngster, let that show you what it is to be without a family, 
without a home, and without a country. And if you are ever 

40 tempted to say a word or to do a thing that shall put a bar between 
you and your family, your home, and your country, pray God in 
his mercy to take you that instant home to his own heaven. Think 

. of your home, boy; write and read, and talk about it. Let it be 

Love of Country 355 

nearer and nearer to your thought, the farther you have to travel 
45 from it ; and rush back to it when you are free, as that poor black 
. slave is doing now. And for your country, boy,'* and the words 
rattled in his throat, "and for that flag," and he pointed to the 
ship, "never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, 
though the service carry you through a thousand terrors. No 
50 matter what happens to you, no matter who flatters you or who 
abuses you, never look at another flag. Remember, that behind 
all these men you have to do with, — behind officers, and govern- 
ment, and people even — ^there is the Country Herself, your Country, 
and that you belong to Her as you belong to your own mother." 

Biographical and Historical: This is an extract from <'The MaD 
Without a Country," a book written by Edward Everett Hale, a clergy- 
man and author, who was bom in 1822 and is a grand nephew of Nathan 
Hale, of Bevolutionary fame. 

''The Man without a Country" is the story of Philip Nolan, a young 
officer ef the United States army. On account of his intimacy with Aaron 
Burr, he was court-martialed and, having expressed the wish never to 
hear the name pf his country again, was banished and sentenced to live 
upon a government boat, where no one was allowed to mention his country. 

(From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," Canto VI.) 


Breathes there the man. with soul so dead. 
Who never to himself hath said: — 
"This is my own, my native land !" 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 

5 As home his footsteps he hath turned 

From wandering on a foreign strand? 
If such there breathe, go, mark him well; 
For him no minstrel raptures swell ; 
High though his titles, proud his name, 

10 Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; 

Despite those titles, power, and pelf. 

356 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

The wretch concentered all in self. 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
IS To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, 

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 



He is fallen ! We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, 
which towered among us like some ancient ruin, whose frown terri- 
fied the glance its magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy, and 
peculiar, he sat upon the throne, a sceptered hermit, wrapt in 
5 the solitude of his own originality. A mind, bold, independent, 
and decisive, — ^a will despotic in its dictates — an energy that dis- 
tanced expedition, and a conscience pliable to every touch of inter- 
est, marked the outline of this extraordinary character— the most 
extraordinary, perhaps, that, in the annals of this world, ever rose, 

10 or reigned, or fell. 

Flung into life in the midst of a revolution that quickened 
every energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, he com- 
menced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charity! 
With no friend but his sword, and no fortune but his talents, he 

15 rushed into the lists where rank and wealth and genius had arrayed 
themselves, and competition fled from him as from the glance of 
destiny. He knew no motive but interest — ^he acknowledged no 
criterion but success — ^he worshiped no God but ambition, and, 
with an Eastern devotion, he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry. 

20 Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not profess, 
there was no opinion that he did not promulgate ; in the hope of a 
dynasty, he upheld the Crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he 
bowed before the Cross; the orphan of St. Louis, he became the 
adopted child of the Bepublic; and, with a parricidal ingratitude, 

Uapoleon Bonaparte 357 

25 on the ruins both of the throne and tribune, he reared the throne 
of his despotism. 

A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope; a pretended 
patriot, he impoverished the country ; and, in the name of Brutus, 
he grasped without remorse and wore without shame th6 diadem 

30 of the Caesars. Through this pantomime of policy, fortune played 
the clown to his caprices. At his touch, crowns crumbled,- beggars 
reigned, systems vanished, the wildest theories took the color of his 
whim, and all that was venerable, and all that was novel, changed 
places with the rapidity of a drama. 

35 Even apparent defeat assumed the appearance of victory, — ^his 
flight from Egypt confirmed his destiny, — ruin itself only elevated 
him to empire. But, if his fortune was great, his genius was 
transcendent; decision flashed upon his counsels; and it was the 
same to decide and to perform. To inferior intellects his combina* 

40 tions appeared perfectly impossible, his plans " perfectly imprac- 
ticable; but, in his hands, simplicity marked their development, 
and success vindicated their adoption. His person partook the 
character of his mind, — if the one never yielded in the cabinet, the 
other never bent in the field. Nature had no obstacle that he 

45 did not surmount— space no opposition that he did not spurn : and 
whether amid Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or Polar snows, he 
seemed proof against peril, and empowered with ubiquity. 

The whole continent trembled at beholding the audacity of his 
designs, and the miracle of their execution. Skepticism bowed to 

SO the prodigies of his performance ; romance assumed the air of his- 
tory; nor was there aught too incredible for belief, or too fanciful 
for expectation, when the world saw a subaltern of Corsica waving 
his imperial flag over her most ancient capitals. All the visions 
of antiquity became commonplace in his contemplation ; kings were 

55 his people — nations were his outposts; and he disposed of courts, 
and crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as if they were 
titular dignitaries of the chess-board. Amid all these changes, he 
stood immutable as adamant. 

It mattered little whether in the field or in the drawing-room. 

358 Ehon Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

60 with the mob or the levee — wearing the Jacobin bonnet or the 
iron crown — banishing a Braganza^ or espousing a Hapsbnrg — dic- 
tating peace on a raft to the Czar of Bussia, or contemplating 
defeat at the gallows of Leipsic — ^he was still the same miUtary 

65 In this wonderful combination, his aflEectations of literature must 
not be omitted. The jailer of the press, he aflEected the patronage 
of letters; the proscriber of books, he encouraged philosophy; the 
persecutor of authors and the murderer of printers, he yet pre- 
tended to the protection of learning. Such a medley of contradic- 

70 tions, and at the same time, such an individual consistency, were 
never united in the same character. A royalist — ^a republican and 
an emperor — a Mohammedan — a Catholic and a patron of the 
synagogue — a subaltern and a sovereign — a traitor and a tyrant — a 
Christian and an infidel — ^he was, through all his vicissitudes, the 

75 same stern, impatient, inflexible original — ^the same mysterious, 
incomprehensible self — ^a man without a model and without a 



The flowers of gentleness, of kindliness, of fidelity, of human- 
ity, which flourish in unregarded luxuriance in the rich meadows 
of peace, receive unwonted admiration when we discern them in 
war, like violets shedding their perfume on the perilous edges of 

5 the precipice, beyond the smiling borders of civilization. God be 
praised for all the examples of niagnanimous virtue which he has 
vouchsafed to mankind ! God be praised that the Roman emperor, 
about to start on a distant expedition of war, encompassed by 
squadrons of cavalry and by golden eagles which moved in the 

10 winds, stooped from his saddle to listen to the prayer of the humble 
widow, demanding justice for the death of her son 1 God be praised 

The True Grandeur of Nations 359 

that Sidney, on the field of battle, gave with dying hand the cup 
of cold water to the dying soldier ! That single act of self-forgetful 
Bacrifiee has consecrated the fenny field of Zutphen far, oh, far 

15 beyond its battle; it has consecrated thy name, gallant Sidney, 
beyond any feat of thy sword, beyond any triumph of thy pen. 
But there are hands out-stretched elsewhere than on fields of blood 
for so little as a cup of cold water; the world is full of oppor- 
tunities for deeds of kindness. Let me not be told, then, of the 

20 virtues of war. Let not the acts of generosity and sacrifice which 
have triumphed on its fields be invoked in its defense. In the 
words of Oriental imagery, the poisonous tree, though watered 
by nectar, can produce only the fruit of death. 

As we cast our eyes over the history of nations, we discern with 

25 horror the succession of murderous slaughters by which their prog- 
ress has been marked. As the hunter traces the wild beast, when 
pursued to his lair, by the drops of blood on the earth, so we 
follow man, faint, weary, staggering with wounds, through the 
black forest of the past, which he has reddened with his gore. Oh, 

30 let it not be in the future ages as in those which we now con- 
template. Let the grandeur of man be discerned in the blessings 
which he has secured; in the good he has accomplished; in the 
triumphs of benevolence and justice; in the establishment of per- 
petual peace. 

35 And peace has its own peculiar victories, in comparison with 
which Marathon and Bannockbum and Bunker Hill, fields held 
sacred in the history of human freedom, shall lose their lustre. 
Our own Washington rises to a truly heavenly stature — ^not when 
we follow him over the ice of the Delaware to the capture of 

40 Trenton — not when we behold him victorious over Cornwallis at 
Yorktown — but when we regard him, in noble deference to justice, 
refusing the kingly crown which a faithless soldiery proffered, and 
at a later day upholding the peaceful neutrality of the country, 
while he received unmoved the clamor of the people wickedly crying 

45 for war. . . . 

To this great work let me summon you. That future which 

360 Ehon Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

filled the lofty visions of the sages and bards of Greece and Borne, 
which was foretold by the prophets and heralded by the evangelists, 
when man in happy isles or in a new paradise shall confess the 

SO loveliness of peace, may be secured by your care, if not for your- 
selves, at least for your children. Believe that you can do it, and 
you can do it. . The true golden age is before you, not behind you. 
Let it not be said that the age does not demand this work. 
The mighty conquerors of the past from their fiery sepulchres 

55 demand it ; the blood of millions unjustly shed in war crying from 
the ground demands it ; the voices of all good men demand it ; the 
conscience even of the soldier whispers "peace.^' There are con- 
siderations springing from our situation and condition which fer- 
vently invite us to take the lead in this great work. To this should 

60 bend the patriotic ardor of the land ; the ambition of the statesman; 
the efforts of the scholar; the pervasive influence of the press; the 
mild persuasion of the sanctuary ; the early teachings of the school. 
Here, in ampler ether and diviner air, are untried fields for exalted 
triumphs, more truly worthy the American name than any snatched 

65 from rivers of blood. War is known as the last reason of kings. 
Let it be no reason of our republic. Let us renounce and throw 
oflE forever the yoke of a tyranny more oppressive than any in the 
annals of the world. As those standing on the mountain tops first 
discern the coming beams of morning, let us, from the vantage- 

70 ground of liberal institutions, first recognize the ascending sun of 
a new era. Lift high the gates and let the King of glory in — ^the 
King of true glory, of peace. I catch the last words of music from 
the lips of innocence and beauty — 

'^And let the whole earth be filled with his glory !" 

75 It is a beautiful picture in Grecian story that there was at 
least one spot, the small island of Delos, dedicated to the gods, and 
kept at all times sacred from war, where the citizens of hostile 
countries met and united in a common worship. So let us dedicate 
our broad country. The temple of honor shall be surrounded by 

80 the temple of concord, so that the former can be entered only 

The Evils of War 361 

through the portals of the latter; the horn of abundance shall 
overflow at its gates; the angel of religion shall be the guide over 
its steps of flashing adamant; while within, Justice, returned to 
the earth from her long exile in the ski^s, shall rear her serene 

85 and majestic front. And the future chiefs of the republic, destined 
to uphold the glories of a new era, unspotted by human blood, 
shall be "the flrst in peace, and the first in the hearts of their 

But while we seek these blissful glories for ourselves, let us 

90 strive to extend them to other lands. Let the bugles sound the 
truce of God to the whole world forever. Let the selfish boast of 
the Spartan women become the grand chorus of mankind, that 
they have never seen the smoke of an enemy's camp. Let the iron 
belt of martial music which now encompasses the earth be exchanged 

95 for the golden cestus of peace, clothing all with celestial beauty. 
And now, on this Sabbath of our country, let us lay a new stone in 
the grand temple of universal peace, whose dome shall be as lofty 
as the firmament of heaven, as broad and comprehensive as the 
earth itself. 

Biographical: Charles Sumner was an American statesman noted for 
his oratory. His speeches were marked by soundness of reason, and the 
fifteen published volumes of them make an imposing addition to our 
literature. This selection is taken from his address *'The True Grandeur 
of Nations," which was delivered in Tremont Temple, Boston, July 
4, 1845. 



"The drying up a single tear has more 
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore." — Byron, 

War, pestilence, and famine, by the common consent of man- 
kind, are the three greatest calamities which can befall our species ; 
and war, as the most direful, justly stands foremost and in front. 

362 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Pestilence and famine^ no doubt for wise although inscrutable pur- 

5 poses, are inflictions of Providence, to which it is our duty, there- 
fore, to bow with obedience, humble submission, and resignation. 
Their duration is not long, and their ravages are limited. They 
bring, indeed, great affliction, while they last, but society soon 
recovers from their effects. 

10 War is the voluntary work of our own hands, and whatever 
reproaches it may deserve, should be directed to ourselves. When 
it breaks out, its duration is indefinite and unknown, — its vicissi- 
tudes are hidden from our view. In the sacrifice of human life, 
and in the waste of human treasure, — ^in its losses and in its burdens, 

IS — it affects both belligerent nations, and its sad effects of mangled 
bodies, of death, and of desolation, endure long after its thunders 
are hushed in peace. 

War unhinges society, disturbs its peaceful and regular industry, 
and scatters poisonous seeds of disease and immorality, which con- 

20 tinue to germinate and diffuse their baneful influence long after it 
has ceased. Dazzling by its glitter, pomp, and pageantry, it begets 
a spirit of wild adventure and romantic enterprise, and often dis- 
qualifies those who embark in it, after their return from the bloody 
fields of battle, for engaging in the industrious and peaceful 

25 vocations of life. 

History tells the mournful tale of conquering nations and con- 
querors. The three most celebrated conquerors, in the civilized 
world, were Alexander, Caesar, and Napoleon. The first, after 
ruining a large portion of Asia, and sighing and lamenting that 

30 there were no more worlds to subdue, met a premature and ignoble 
death. His lieutenants quarreled and warred with each other as to 
the spoils of his victories, and finally lost them all. 

Caesar, after conquering Gaul, returned with his triumphant 
legions to Eome, passed the Eubicon, won the battle of Pharsalia, 

35 trampled upon the liberties of his country, and expired by the 
patriot hand of Brutus. But Eome ceased to be free. War and 
conquest had enervated and corrupted the masses. The spirit of 
true liberty was extinguished, and a long line of emperors sue- 

Peace, the Policy of a Nation 363 

ceeded, some of whom were the most execrable monsters that ever 

40 existed in human form. 

And Napoleon, that most extraordinary man, perhaps, in all 
history, after subjugating all continental Europe, occupying almost 
all its capitals, — seriously threatening proud Albion itself, — and 
decking the brows of various members of his family with crowns 

45 torn from the heads of other monarchs, lived to behold his own 
dear France itself in possession of his enemies, was made himself 
a wretched captive, and far removed from country, family, and 
friends, breathed his last on the distant and inhospitable rock of 
St. Helena. 

50 The Alps and the Ehine had been claimed, as the natural 
boundaries of France, but even these could not be secured in the 
treaties, to which she was reduced to submit. Do you believe that 
the people of Macedon or Greece, of Eome, or of France, were 
benefited, individually or collectively, by the triumphs of their 

55 captains? Their sad lot was immense sacrifice of life, heavy and 
intolerable burdens, and the ultimate loss of libeYty itself. 

Biographical: Henry Clay was one of the most prominent statesmen 
of his time, serving as speaker of the House for ten years, as secretary of 
state for four years, and as senator from Kentucky for twenty years. 
He was the author of the compromise measures in 1850, and was known 
as the "Great Pacificator," and the ** Great Compromiser.'* 



I AM opposed to war, as a friend to human improvement, to 
human civilization, to human progress and advancement. Never, 
in the history of the world, has there occurred a period so remark- 
able. The chemical and mechanical powers have been investigated 
5 and applied to advance the comforts of human life, in a degree far 
beyond all that was ever known before. Civilization has been 

364 EUon Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

spreading its influence far and wide, and the general progress of 
human society has outstripped all that h^d been previously 

10 The invention of man has seized upon, and subjugated two 
gi'eat agencies of the natural world, which never before were made 
the servants of man. I refer to steam and to electricity, under 
which I include magnetism in all its phenomena. We have been 
distinguished by Providence for a great and noble purpose, and 

15 I trust we shall fulfill our high destiny. 

Again, I am opposed to war, because I hold that it is now to be 
determined whether two such nations as these shall exist for the 
future, as friends or enemies. A declaration of war by one of 
them against the other, must be pregnant with miseries, not only 

20 to themselves, but to the world. 

Another reason is, that mighty means are now put into the 
hands of both, to cement and secure a perpetual peace, by breaking 
down the barriers, of commerce, and uniting them more closely in 
an intercourse mutually beneficial. If this shall be accomplished, 

25 other nations will, one after another, follow the fair example, and 
a state of general prosperity, heretofore unknown, will gradually 
unite and bless the nations of the world. 

And. far more than all. An intercourse like this points to that 
inspiring day which philosophers have hoped for, which poets have 

30 seen in their bright dreams of fancy, and which prophecy has seen 
in holy vision, — when men shall learn war no more. Who can 
contemplate a state of the world like this, and not feel his heart 
exult at the prospect? And who can doubt that, in the hand of 
an Omnipotent Providence, a free and unrestricted commerce shall 

35 prove one of the greatest agents in bringing it about? 

Finally, I am against war, because peace — peace is preeminently 
our policy. Our great mission, as a people, is to occupy this vast 
domain, — there to level forests, and let in upon their solitude the 
light of day ; to clear the swamps and morasses, and redeem them 

40 to the plow and the sickle ; to spread over hill and dale the echoes 
of human labor, and human happiness, and contentment; to fill 

Peace, the Policy of a Nation 365 

the land with cities and towns ; to unite its opposite extremities by 
turnpikes and railroads ; to scoop out canals for the transmission of 
its products, and open rivers for its internal trade. 

45 War can only impede the fulfillment of this high mission of 
Heaven; it absorbs the wealth and diverts the energy which might 
be so much better devoted to the improvement of our country. All 
we want is peace, — established peace; and then time, under the 
guidance of a wise and cautious policy, will soon effect for us all 

50 the rest. Where we find that natural causes will of themselves 
work out good, our wisdom is to let them work ; and all our task is 
to remove impediments. In the present case, one of the greatest 
of these impediments is found in our impatience. 

Yes; time — ever-laboring time — will effect everything for us. 

55 Our population is now increasing at the annual average of six 
hundred thousand. . Let the next twenty-five years elapse, and our 
increase will have reached a million a year, and, at the end of 
that period, we shall count a population of forty-five millions. 
Before that day it will have spread from ocean to ocean. The 

60 coast of the Pacific will then be as densely populated and as thickly 

settled with villages and towns as is now the coast of the Atlantic. 

If we can preserve peace, who shall set bounds to our prosperity, 

or to our success ? With one foot planted on the Atlantic and the 

other on the Pacific, we shall occupy a position between the two 

65 old continents of the world, — a position eminently calculated to 
secure to us the commerce and the influence of both. If we abide 
by the counsels of common sense, — ^if we succeed in preserving our 
constitutional liberty, we shall then exhibit a spectacle such as the 
world never saw. 

70 I know that this one great mission is encompassed with diffi- 
culties; but such is the inherent energy of our political system, 
and such its expansive capability, that it may be made to govern 
the widest space. If by war we become great, we can not be free ; 
if we will be both great and free, our policy is peace. 

Biographical: John C. Calhoun was a distinguished American states- 
man. He is noted for his advocacy of the annexation of Texas and hi9 

366 Ehon Grammar School Reader Booh Four 

maintenance of the cause of peace, when war with Great Britain was 
threatened by the claims of the United States te Oregon. This selection 
is from one of his speeches in the Senate on that subject. 



The hours of this day are rapidly flying, and this occasion will 
soon be passed. Neither we nor our children can expect to behold 
its return. They are in the distant regions of futurity, they exist 
only in the all-creating power of God, who shall stand here, a hun- 
5. dred years hence, to trace, through us, their descent from the Pil- 
grims, and to survey, as we have now surveyed, the progress of 
their country during the lapse of a century. We would anticipate 
their concurrence with us in our sentiments of deep regard for our 
common ancestors. We would anticipate and partake of the 

10 pleasure with which they will then recoimt the steps of New Eng- 
land's advancement. On the morning of that day, although it will 
not disturb us in our repose, the voice of acclamation and gratis 
tude, commencing on t^e rock of Plymouth, shall be transmitted 
through millions of the sons of the Pilgrims, till it lose itself in 

15 the murmurs of the Pacific seas. 

We would leave for the consideration of those who shall occupy 
our places, some proof that we hold the blessings transmitted from 
our fathers in just estimation;; some proof of our attachment to 
the cause of good government, and ardent desire to promote every- 

20 thing which may enlarge the imderstandings and improve the 
hearts of men. And when, from the long distance of a hundred 
years, they shall look back upon us, they shall know, at least, that 
we possessed affections which, running backward and warming with 
gratitude for what our ancestors have done for our happiness, run 

25 forward also to our posterity, and meet them with cordial saluta- 
tion, ere yet they have arrived on the shore of being. 

Supposed Speech of John Adams 367 

Advance, then, ye future generations! We would hail you, as 
you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which we now 
fill, and to taste the blessings of existence, where we are passing, 

30 and soon shall have passed, our human ^duration. We bid you 
welcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New 
England. We greet your accession to the great inheritance which 
we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good govern- 
ment and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of 

35 science and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the 
transcendent sweets of domestic life, to the happiness of kindred, 
and parents, and children. We welcome you to the immeasurable 
blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, 
and the light of everlasting truth ! 

Biographical and Historical: Daniel Webster stands out as America's 
foremost orator. His eloquence, enhanced by the force of his personality, 
was equally great whether answering an opponent in the Senate, pleading 
a case as a lawyer, or in the more dispassionate orations of anniversary 
occasions. He was the champion of the national idea and of complete 
union, and therefore bitterly opposed Hayne and Calhoun. He supported 
Clay in the compromise measures of 1850. His supremacy in American 
statesmanship, as senator, and as secretary of state, makes him 'Hhe no- 
tablest of our notabilities. ' * These are the closing paragraphs from his 
oration delivered at Plymouth, December 22, 1820, on the two hundredth 
anniversary of the landing of the Pilgrims. 



Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand 

and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that in the beginning 

we aimed not at independence. But there is a divinity which 

shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven us to arms ; 

5 and, blinded to her own interest, she has obstinately persisted, till 

368 Ehon Grammar School Reader Book Four 

independence is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth 

to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the declaration? 

If we postpone indepjendence, do we mean to carry on or to give 

up the war? Do we mean to submit, and consent that we shall 

10 be ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden down 
in the dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall 
submit ! 

The war, then, must go on; we must fight it through. And 
if the war must go on, why put oflE the declaration of independ- 

15 ence ? That measure will strengthen us. It will give us character 
abroad. Nations will then treat with us, which they never can do 
while we acknowledge ourselves subjects in arms against our 

If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. 

20 The cause will raise up armies ; the cause will create navies. The 
people — the people, if we are true to them, will carrj' us, and 
will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. I care not 
how fickle other people have been found. I know the people of 
these colonies; and I know that resistance to British aggression is 

25 deep and settled in their hearts, and cannot be eradicated. 

Sir, the declaration of independence will inspire the people 
with increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for the 
restoration of privileges, for redress of grievances, set before them 
the glorious object of entire independence, and it will breathe into 

30 them anew the spirit of life. 

Read this declaration at the head of the army; every sword will 
be drawn, and the solemn, vow uttered to maintain it or perish 
on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit; religion will 
approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling around it, 

35 resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the public 
halls; proclaim it there; let them see it, who saw their brothers 
and their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets 
of Lexington and Concord, and the very walls will cry out in its 

40 Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs, but I see, I see 

Supposed Speech of John Adams 369 

dearly through this day^s business. You and I, indeed, may rue 
it. We may not live to see the time this declaration shall be made 
good. We may die; die colonists; die slaves; die, it may be igno- 
miniously, and on the scaffold. Be it so: be it so. If it be the 

45 pleasure of Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering 
of my life, the victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of 
sacrifice, come when that hour may. But while I do live, let me 
have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a free 

50 But whatever may be our fate, be assured — ^be assured that 
this declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost' 
blood; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. 
Through the thick gloom of the present I see the brightness of the 
future, as the sim in heaven. We shaiU make this a glorious, an 

55 immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor 
it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with 
bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return they will shed 
tears, copious, gushing tears; not of subjection and slavery, not 
of agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. 

60 Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment 
approves the measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I 
have, and all that I am, and all that I hope in this life, I am now 
ready here to stake upon it ; and I leave off as I began, that, live 
or die, survive or perish, I am for the declaration. It is my 

65 living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying 
sentiment; independence now, and independence forever. 

Historical: Boston was deeply moved, on July 4, 1826, by the news 
of the death of John Adams, just fifty years after the signing of the 
Declaration of Independence. He was not only conscious of the sig- 
nificance of the day, but had spoken of his colleague, Thomas Jefferson, 
and the fact that Jefferson would survive him. A few days later, news 
came from Virginia that Jefferson had died on the same day, a few 
hours earlier than Adams. The whole country was deeply affected by 
this remarkable coincidence. On the second of August a public memorial 
meeting was held in Faneuil Hall, Boston, at which Daniel Webster 
delivered an oration on "Adams and Jefferson." In this speech, merely 

370 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

a part of the oratioB, Webster represents what Adams might have said 
at the time of the Declaration of Independence. 



I SHALL make no profession of zeal for the interests and honor 
of South Carolina. If there be one state in the Union that may 
challenge comparison with any other, for a uniform, zealous, 
ardent, and uncalculating devotion to the Union, that state is 
5 South Carolina. Prom the very commencement of the Eevolu- 
tion up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has 
not cheerfully made, no service she has ever hesitated to perform. 
She has adhered to you in your prosperity; but in your adversity 
she has clung to you with more than filial affection. No matter 

10 what was the condition of her domestic affairs, though deprived 
of her resources, divided by parties, or surrounded with difficulties, 
the call of the country has been to her as the voice of God. 
Domestic discord ceased at the sound; every man became at once 
reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen 

IS crowding together to the temple, bringing gifts to the altar of 
their common country. 

What was the conduct of the South during the Bevolution ? I 
honor New England for her conduct in that glorious struggle. 
But great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least 

20 equal honor is due the South. They espoused the quarrel of their 
brethren with a generous zeal which did not suffer them to stop 
to calculate their interest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother 
country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to create a com- 
mercial rivalship, they might have found in their situation a 

25 guaranty that their trade would be forever fostered and protected 
by Great Britain. But, trampling on all considerations either of 
interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and, fighting for 
principle, periled all in the sacred cause of freedom. Never were 

Reply to Eayne 371 

there exhibited in the history of the world higher examples ot 

30 noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endurance than by 

the Whigs of Carolina during the Eevolution. The whole state, 

from the mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming 

force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot 

where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. 

35 The "plains of Carolina** drank up the most precious blood of 

her citizens. Black and smoking ruins marked the places which 

had been the habitations of her children. Driven from their homes 

into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the 

spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the 

40 example of her Sumters and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, 

that, though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people 

was invincible. 

Historical: In January of 1830, Senator Foote of Connecticut intro- 
duced inte the Senate a resolution regarding the sale of public lands. 
The subject of state rights being uppermost in their minds, the debaters 
.wandered off into a discussion of the Constitution. Senator Bebert T. 
Hayne of South Carolina, in a brilliant speech set forth the doctrine of 
nullification, and Daniel Webster answered him in one of the greatest 
speeches ever delivered. This extract and the following are taken from 
this memorable debate, when for the first time the two opposing theories 
of the Constitution, the "state" and the ''national," were clearly set 



I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member goes before 
me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent or distinguished 
character South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor, 
I partake in the pride, of her great name. I claim them for 
countrymen, one and all. The Laurenses, the Eutledges, the 
Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions — Americans all — ^whose fame 
is no more te be hemmed in by state lines than their talents and 

372 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same 
narrow limits. In their day and generation, they served and hon- 

10 ored the country, and the whole country; and their renown is of 
the treasures of the whole country. 

Mr. President, I shall enter upon n© encomium upon Massa- 
chusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge 
for yourselves. There is her history ; the world knows it by heart. 

15 The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and 
Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever. 
The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for independ- 
ence, now lie mingled with the soil of every state from New Eng- 
land to Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where 

20 American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was 
nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its 
manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion 
shall wound it; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk and 
tear it; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary and 

25 necessary restraint, shall succeed in separating it from that Union . 
by which alone its existence is made sure, — it will stand, in the 
end, by the of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; 
it will stretch forth its arm, with whatever vigor it may still retain, 
over the friends who gather round it ; and it will fall at last, if fall 

30 it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory and on 
the very spot of its origin. 

I cannot persuade myself to relinquish this subject without 
expressing my deep conviction, that, since it respects nothing less 
than The Union of the States, it is of most vital and essential 

35 importance to the public happiness. I profess, sir, in my career 
hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor 
of the whole country^ and the preservation of our federal Union. 
It is to that Union wb owe our safety at home and our considera- 
tion and dignity abroad. It is to that Union that we are chiefly 

iO indebted for whatever makoB us most proud of our country. 

That Union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues in 
the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the necessities 

Reply to Hayne 373 

of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and mined credit. 
Under its benign influences, these great interests immediately 

45 awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. 

Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its 
utility and its blessings ; and, although our territory has stretched 
out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, 
they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to 

50 us a copious fountain of national, social, and personal happiness. 

I have not allowed myself to look beyond the TTnion, to see 

what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly 

weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds that 

unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed 

55 myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with 
my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below ; nor 
could I regard him as a safe counselor in the affairs of this govern- 
ment, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not 
how the Union should be best preserved, but how tolerable might be 

60 the condition of the people when it shall be broken up and destroyed. 
While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying pros- 
pects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that, 
I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my day, at 
least, that curtain may not rise, — ^that on my vision never may be 

65 opened what lies behind. 

When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the 
sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dis- 
honored fragments of a once glorious Union— on States dissevered, 
discordant, belligerent, — on a land rent with civil feuds, or 

70 drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and 
lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, 
now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high 
advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original luster, 
not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing 

75 for its motto, no such miserable interrogatory as, 'HlVTiat is all this 
worth 7^ nor those other words of delusion and folly, 'Tjiberty first 
and Union afterward^'; but everywhere, spread all over in char- 

374 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Pour 

acters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float 

over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole 

80 heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true American heart, 

— Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable ! 



Pour score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on 
this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated 
to the proposition that all men are created equal. 

Now we are engaged in a great civil war; testing whether 
5 that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can 
long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. 
We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final 
resting place for those who here gave their lives that that 
nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we 

10 should do this. 

But, in a larger sen^e, we can not dedicate — ^we can not con- 
secrate — ^we can not hallow — ^this ground. The brave men, liv- 
ing and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above 
our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, 

15 nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget 
what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be 
dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought 
here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to 
be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — ^that 

20 from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that 
cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — 
that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died 
in vain — ^that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth 
of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, 

25 for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 

Historical: At the dedication of the national cemetery at Oettys- 
burg, November 19, 1863, President Lincoln was asked to be present and 

Lincoln, the Oreat Commoner 375 

say a few words. This address has become a classic. Edward Everett, the 
orator who had delivered the long address of the day wrote to Mr. Lincoln^ 
' ' I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came as near the central 
idea of the occasion in two hours as you did in two minutes. ' ' 

Several versions of the speech have appeared, but the one here printed 
was given out by President Lincoln himself as the authorized version. See' 
''Lincoln's Gettysburg Address/' Century Magazine, Feb., 1894, 



When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour, 
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on, 
She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down 
To make a man to meet the mortal need. 

5 She took the tried clay of the common road — 

Clay warm yet with the genial heat of ^ Earth, 
Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy ; 
Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. 
It was a stuflf to wear for centuries, 

10 A man that matched the mountains, and compelled 

The stars to look our way and honor us. 

The color of the ground was in him, the red earth ; 

The tang and odor of the primal things — 

The rectitude and patience of the rocks ; 
15 The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn ; 

The courage of the bird that dares the sea ; 

The justice of the rain that loves all leaves ; 

The pity of the snow that hides all scars ; 

The loving kindness of the wayside well ; 
20 The tolerance and equity of light 

That gives as freely to the shrinking weed 

As to the great oak flaring to the wind — 

To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhom 

That shoulders out the sky. 
25 And so he came. 

Prom prairie cabin up to capitol 

376 Ehon Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

Ooe fair ideal led our chieftain on. 
Forevermore he burned to do his deed 
With the fine stroke and gesture of a king. 
30 He built the rail-pile as he built the State, 

Pouring his splendid strength through every blow, 
The conscience of him testing every stroke, 
To make his deed the measure of a man. 

So came the Captain with the mighty heart : 
35 And when the step of Earthquake shook the house. 

Wrenching the rafters from their ancient hold, 
He held the ridge-pole up, and spiked again 
The rafters of the Home. He held his place — 
Held the long purpose like a growing tree — 
40 Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. 

And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down 
As when a kingly cedar green with boughs 
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills. 
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. 

Biographical: Edwin Markham was born in Oregon, taught school 
in California, and more recently has been a resident of Brooklyn. His 
poem ''The Man with the Hoe" brought him immediate fame. 



Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting. 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; 
But heart! heart! heart! 
the bleeding drops of red, 
Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

Washington's Farewell Address 377 

Captain ! my Captain I rise up and hear the bells ; 
► Else up — ^for you the flag is flung — ^for you the bugle trills, 
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shorea 

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; 
Here, Captain I dear father I 
This arm beneath your head! 
I It is some dream that on the deck 

YouVe fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, 
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done. 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won ; 
Exult, shores I and ring, bells ! 
But I with mournful tread. 
Walk the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

Biographical and Historical: Walt Whitman will always be remem« 
bered as the author of this poem. It differs from his other poems in 
that it shows a great deal of attention to form, to metre, and rhyme. 
He wrote not so much with the aim to please as to arouse and uplift. 
He was very democratic in his taste, and loved to mingle with the 
crowds on the ferries and omnibuses. At different times he was school 
teacher, carpenter, and journalist. This poem was written in appreciation 
of Lincoln, at the time of his death. 


Friends and Fellow-Citizens, 

The period for a new election of a Citizen, to administer the 
Executive Government of the United States, being not far distant, 
and the time actually arrived, when your thoughts must be employed 
in designating the person, who is to be clothed with that important 

878 Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

trust, it appears to me proper, especially as it may conduce to a 
more distinct expression of the public voice, that I should now 
apprise you of the resolution I have formed, to decline being 
considered among the number of those, out of whom a choice is 

10 to be made. 

The unity of government, which constitutes you one people, is 
also now dear to you. It is justly so ; for it is a main pillar in the 
edifice of your real independence, — the support of your tranquillity 
at home and your peace abroad, of your safety, of your prosperity, 

IS of that very liberty which you so highly prize. 

But as it is easy to foresee that, from different causes and 
from different quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices 
employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth; 
as this is the point in your political fortress against which the 

20 batteries of internal and external enemies will be most constantly 
and actively, though often covertly and insidiously, directed, — it 
is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the 
immense value of your national imion to your collective and 
individual happiness; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, 

25 and immovable attachment to it; accustoming yourself to think 
and speak of it as of the palladium of your political safety and 
prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; 
discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it 
can, in any event, be abandoned; and indignantly frowning upon 

30 the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our 
country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now 
link together the various parts. 

To the eflBcacy and permanency of your union a government 
for the whole is indispensable. No alliances, however strict, be- 

35 tween the parts can be an adequate substitute ; they must inevitably 
experience the infractions and interruptions which all alliances 
in all times have experienced. Sensible of this momentous truth, 
you have .improved your essay, by the adoption of the constitution 
of a government better calculated than your former for an inti- 

Washington's Farewell Address 379 

40 mate union^ and for the efficacious management of your common 

This government, the offspring of our own choice, uninfluenced 
and unawed, adopted upon full investigation and mature delibera- 
tion, completely free in its principles, in the distribution of its 

45 powers, uniting security with energy, and containing within itself 
a provision for its own amendment, has a just claim to your con- 
fidence and your support. Respect for its authority^, compliance 
with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are duties enjoined by 
the fundamental maxims of true liberty. The basis of our political 

50 systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their con- 
stitution of government; but the constitution which at any time 
exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole 
people, is sacredly obligatory upon all. The very idea of the 
power and the right of the people to establish government pre- 

55 supposes the duty of every individual to obey the established 

All obstructions to the executions of the laws, all combinations 
and associations, under whatever plausible character, with the real 
design to direct, control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation 

60 and action of the constituted authorities, are destructive of this 
fundamental principle and of fatal tendency. They serve to 
organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; 
to put, in the place of the delegated will of the nation, the will 
of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of 

65 the community; and, according to the alternate triumphs of dif- 
ferent parties, to make the public administration the mirror of 
the ill-concerted and incongruous projects of faction, rather than 
the organ of consistent and wholesome plans digested by common 
counsels and modified by mutual interests. 

70 However combinations or associations of the above description 
may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely, in the 
course of time and things, to become potent engines by which 
cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to 

380 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

subvert the power of the people, and to usurp for themselves the 

75 reins of government ; destroying afterward the very engines which 
had lifted them to unjust dominion. 

Toward the preservation of your government and the per- 
manency of your present happy state, it is requisite not only that 
you steadily discountenance irregular oppositions to its acknowl- 

80 edged authority, but also that you resist with care the spirit of 
innovation upon its principles, however specious the pretexts. One 
method of assault may be to effect, in the forms of the constitution, 
alterations which will impair the energy of the system, and thus 
to undermine what cannot be directly overthrown. 

85 In all the changes to which you may be invited, remember that 
time and habit are at least as necessary to fix the true character 
of governments as of other human institutions; that experience 
i& the surest standard by which to test the real tendency of the 
existing constitution of a country ; that facility in changes, upon 

90 the credit of mere hypothesis and opinion, exposes to perpetual 
change, from the endless variety of hypothesis and opinion; and 
remember especially that for the eflScient management of your 
common interest in a country so extensive as ours, a government 
of as much vigor as is consistent with the perfect security of 

95 liberty is indispensable. Liberty itself will find in such a govern- 
ment, with powers properly distributed and adjusted, its surest 
guardian. It is, indeed^ little else than a name where the govern- 
ment is too feeble to withstand the enterprises of faction, to 
confine each member of the society within the limits prescribed 

100 by the laws, and to maintain all in the secure and tranquil 
enjoyment of the rights of person and property. 

It is important, likewise, that the habits of thinking m a free 
country should inspire caution, in those intrusted with its admin- 
istration, to confine themselves within their respective constitu- 

lOStional spheres, avoiding in the exercise of the powers of one 
department to encroach upon another. The spirit of encroachment 
tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments in one, and 

Washington's Farewell Address 381 

thus to create, whatever the form of government, a real despotism. 
A just estimate of that love of power and proneness to abuse it, 

110 which predominates in the human heart, is suflScient to satisfy us 
of the truth of this position. The necessity of reciprocal checks 
in the exercise of political power, by dividing and distributing it 
into different depositories, and constituting each the guardian of 
the public weal against invasion by the others, has been evinced 

115 by experiments ancient and modem ; some of them in our country 
and under our own eyes. To preserve them must be us necessary 
as to institute them. 

If, in the opinion of the people, the distribution or modification 
of the constitutional powers be in any particular wrong, let it be 

120 corrected by an amendment in the way which the constitution 
designates. But let there be no change by usurpation; for,' though 
this, in one instance, may be the instrument of good, it is the 
customary weapon by which free governments are destroyed. • The 
precedent must always greatly overbalance in permanent evil any 

125 partial or transient benefit, which the use can at any time yield. 

Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political 

prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In 

vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should 

labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these 

130 firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere poli- 
tician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish 
them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private 
and public feliciiy. 

Let it simply be asked, where is the security for property, for 

135 reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the 
oaths which are the instruments of investigation in courts of 
justice? And let us with caution indulge the supposition that 
morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be 
conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar 

140 structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that 
national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle. 

382 Elson Orammar School Reader Booh Four 

It is substantially true that virtue or morality is a necessary 
spring of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with 
more or less foree to every species of free government. Who, that 

145 is a sincere friend to it, can look with indifference upon attempts 
to shake the foundation of the fabric? 

Promote then, as an object of primary importance, institutions 
for the general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the 
structure of a government gives force to public opinion, it is 

ISO essential that public opinion should be enlightened. 

In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an old 
and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will make the strong 
and lasting impression I could wish; that they will control the 
usual current of the passions, or prevent our nation from running 

155 the course, which has hitherto marked the destiny of nations. But, 
if I may even flatter myself, that they may be productive of some 
partial benefit, some occasional good; that they may now and then 
recur to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the 
mischiefs of foreign intrigue, to guard against the impostures of 

160 pretended patriotism; this hope will be a full recompense for the 
solicitude for your welfare, by which they have been dictated. 

How far in the discharge of my official duties, I have been 
guided by the principles which have been delineated, the public 
records and other evidences of my conduct must witness to you 

165 and to the world. To myself, the assurance of my own conscience 
is, that I have at least believed myself to be guided by them. 

Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I 
am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible 
of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed 

170 many errors. Whatever they may be I fervently beseech the 
Almighty t© avert or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. I 
shall also carry with me the hope, that my country will never 
cease to view them with indulgence ; and that, after forty-five years 
of my life dedicated to its service with an upright zeal, the faults 

The Memory of Our Fathers 383 

175 of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion^ as myself 
mnst soon be to the mansions of rest. 

Belying on its kindness in this as in other things^ and actuated 
by that fervent love towards it, which is so natural to a man, who 
views in it the native soil of himself and his progenitors for sev- 

ISOeral generations; I anticipate with pleasing expectation that re- 
treat, in which I promise myself to realize, without alloy, the 
sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst of my fellow-citizens, 
the benign influence of good laws under a free government, the 
ever favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, 

185 of our mutual cares, labors, and dangers. ' 



We are called upon to cherish with high veneration and grateful 
recollections the memory of our fathers. Both the ties of nature 
and the dictates of policy demand this. And surely no nation had 
ever less occasion to be ashamed of its ancestry, or more occasion 

5 for gratification in that respect ; for, while most nations trace their 
origin to barbarians, the foundations of our nation were laid by 
civilized men, by Christians. Many of them were men of dis- 
tinguished families, of powerful talents, of great learning and of 
preeminent wisdom, of decision of character, and of most inflexible 

10 integrity. And yet. not unfrequently they have been treated as if 
they had no virtues; while their sins and follies have been sedu- 
lously immortalized in satirical anecdote. 

The influence of such treatment of our fathers is too manifest. 
It creates and lets loose upon their institutions the vandal spirit 

15 of innovation and overthrow ; for, after the memory of our fathers 
shall have been rendered contemptible, who will uphold and sustain 
.their institutions? The memory of our fathers should be the watch- 
word of liberty throughout the land; for, imperfect as they were. 

384 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

the world before had not seen their like, nor will it soon, we fear, 

20 behold their like again. Such models of moral excellence, such 
apostles of civil and religious liberty, such shades of the illustrious 
dead looking down upon their descendants with approbation or 
reproof, according as they follow or depart from the good way, 
constitute a censorship inferior only to the eye of God; and to 

25 ridicule them is a national suicide. 

The doctrines of our fathers have been represented as gloomy, 
superstitious, severe, irrational, and of a licentious tendency. But 
when other systems shall have produced a piety as devoted, a 
morality as {hire, a patriotism as disinterested, and a state of 

30 society as happy, as have prevailed where their doctrines have been 
most prevalent, it may be in season to seek an answer to this 

The persecutions instituted by our fathers have been the occa- 
sion of ceaseless obloquy upon their fame. And, truly, it was a 

35 fault of no ordinary magnitude, that sometimes they did persecute. 
But let him whose ancestors were not ten times more guilty cast 
the first stone, and the ashes of our fathers will no more be dis- 
turbed. Theirs was the fault of the age, and it will be easy to 
show that no class of men had, at that time, approximated so 

40 nearly to just apprehensions of religious liberty; and that it is to 
them that the world is now indebted for the more just and definite 
views which now prevail. 

The superstition and bigotry of our fathers are themes on 
which some of their descendants, themselves far enough from super- 

45 stition, if not from bigotry, have delighted to dwell. But when we 
look abroad and behold the condition of the world, compared with 
the condition of New England, we may justly exclaim, "Would to 
God that the ancestors of all the nations had been not only almost, 
but altogether such bigots as our fathers were.^^ 

Blograpblcal: Henry Ward Beecher was a noted preaeher, orator, 
and writer. For forty years he was pastor of Plymouth Church, Brook- 
lyn. He lectured extensively throughout the country, taking up the 
great issues of his time. He died in 1887 at the age of seventy-four. 

The American Flag 385 



When Freedom, from her mountain height, 

Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure robe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there ; 
5 She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 

The milky baldric of the skies, 
And striped its pure celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light; 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
lOJ She called her eagle-bearer down, 

^nd gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land ! 

Majestic monarch of the cloud, 
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
15 To hear the tempest-trumpings loud. 

And see the lightning lances driven, 
When strive the warriors of the storm, 

And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven- 
Child of the sun I to thee 'tis given 
20 To guard the banner of the free, 

To hover in the sulphur smoke. 

To ward away the battle-stroke. 

And bid its blendings shine afar. 

Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
25 The harbingers of victory ! 

Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly. 
The sign of hope and triumph high, 
When speaks the signal trumpet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on, 
30 Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet. 

Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, 

386 Elson Orammar School Reader Book Four 

Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 

To where thy sky-born glories bum ; 

And as his springing steps advance, 
35 Catch war and vengeance from the glance. 

And when the cannon's mouthings loud, 

Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, 

And gory sabres rise and fall, 

Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall ; 
40 Then shall thy meteor glances glow, 

And cowering foes shall sink below 

Each gallant arm that strikes beneath 

That awful messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas ! on ocean's wave 
45 Th}' stars shall glitter o'er the brave ; 

When death, careering on the gale. 

Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. 

And frighted waves rush wildly back 

Before the broadside's reeling rack, 
50 Each dying wanderer of the sea 

Shall look at once to heaven and thee. 

And smile to see thy splendors fly 

In triumph o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free heart's hope and home I 
55 By angel hands to valor given ; 

Thy stars have lit the welkin dome. 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet ! 
Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
60 With Freedom's soil beneath our feet. 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ? 

Biographical and Historical: The name of Joseph Bodman Drake is 
inseparably associated with that of his friend, Fitz-Greene Halleck. 
Together they contributed a series of forty poems to the New York Eve- 
ning Post. Among these was ''The American Flag,'' the last four lines • 
of which were written by Halleck, to replace those written by Drake: 

Warren^s Address at the Battle of Bunker Hill 387 

"As fixed as yonder orb divine, 
That saw thy bannered blaze unfurled, 
Shall thy proud stars resplendent shine. 
The guard and glory of the world.'' 

Drake was a youth of many graces of both mind and body, who wrote 
verses as a bird sings — for the pure joy of it. His career was cut short 
by death when he was only twenty-five years old. Of him Halleck wrote: 
"None knew thee but to love thee, 
Nor named thee but to praise." 



Stand ! the ground^s your own, my braves ! 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 
Will ye look for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still ? 
5 What's the mercy despots feel ? 

Hear it in that battle peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it — ye who will. 

Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? 
10 Will ye to your homes retire ? 

Look behind you ! they're afire ! 

And, before you, see 
Who have done it ! — From the vale 
On they come ! — and will ye quail ? — 
15 Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

In the God of battles trust ! 
Die we may — and die we must : 
But, where can dust to dust 
Be consigned so well, 
20 As where heaven its dews shall shed, 

388 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 

On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raisQ their head, 
Of his deeds to tell? 

Biographical and Historical: John Pierpont was a Unitarian clergy- 
man of Connecticut, who published several volumes of poetry. General 
Joseph Warren was one of the generals in command of the patriot army 
at the battle of Bunker Hill, and was killed in the battle. He was 
counted one of the bravest and most unselfish patriots of the Bevolu- 
tionary War. In this poem we have the poet's idea of how General 
Warren inspired his men. 



Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind the Gates of Hercules; 
Before him not the ghosts of shores, 

Before him only shoreless seas. 
5 The good mate said : "Now must we pray, 

For lo ! the very stars are gone. 
Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say ?'' 

"Why, say 'sail on ! sail on ! and on !' " 

"My men grow mutinous day by day ; 
10 My men grow ghastly wan and weak." 

The stout mate thought of home ; a spray 
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. 
"What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, 
If we sight naught but seas at dawn ?" 
15 "Why, you shall say at break of day, 

SSail on ! sail on ! and on !' " 

*Taken from The Complete Poetical Works of Joaquin Miller (copy- 
righted), by permission of The Whitakcr & Ray Company. 

Columbus 389 

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow. 

Until at last the blanched mate said : 
"Why, now not even God would know 
20 Should I and all my men fall dead. 

These very winds forget their way, 

For God from these dread seas is gone, 
Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say" — 

He said : "Sail on ! sail on ! and on !" 

25 They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate ; 

"This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. 
He curls his lip, he lies in wait, 
With lifted teeth, as if to bite ! 
Brave Admiral, say but one good word : 
30 What shall we do when hope is gone ?" 

The words leapt like a leaping sword ; 
"Sail on ! sail on ! and on !" 

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, 

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night 
35 Of all dark nights ! And then a speck — 

A light ! A light I A light ! A light ! 
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled ! 

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. 

He gained a world ; he gave that world 

40 Its grandest lesson : "On ! sail on !'' 

Biographical and Historical: Oincinhatus Heine Miller (Joaquin 
[hoa'kin] Miller) was born in Indiana in 1841. Joining the general 
movement to the West after the discovery of gold, his parents moved to 
the Pacific coast in 1850. He died in 1914. 

**In point of power, workmanship, and feeling, among all the poems 
written by Americans, we are inclined to give first place to *The Port of 
Ships,' or 'Columbus,' by Joaquin Miller.'' — London Athenaeum. 

390 Elson Grammar School Reader Book Four 



God of our fathers, known of old — 
Lord of our far-flung battle line — 

Beneath whose awful hand we hold 

Dominion over palm and pine — 

5 Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. 

Lest we forget — ^lest we forget ! 

The tumult and the shouting dies — 

The Captains and the Kings depart — 
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, 
10 An humble and a contrite heart. 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
Lest we forget — ^lest we forget ! 

Far-called, our navies melt away — 
On dune and headland sinks the fire — 
IS Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! 

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet. 

Lest we forget — ^lest we forget ! 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
20 Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — 

Such boasting as the Gentiles use. 

Or lesser breeds without the Law — 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

25 For heathen heart that puts her trust 

In reeking tube and iron shard — 
All valiant dust that builds on dust, 

And guarding calls not Thee to guard. 
For frantic boast and foolish word, 
30 Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! 

• Amen, 

A Definition of a Oentleman 391 

Biographical and Historical: Budyard Kipling was bom Christmas 
week, 1865, in Bombay. After school life in England, he returned to 
India at the age of seventeen, to do journalistic work. His tales of Indian 
life and his biSlads describing the life of the British soldier won immediate 
favor. Perhaps he is best known to the boys and girls as the author of 
the Jupgle Books. From 1892 to 1896 he lived in the United States. 
This poem, which appeared in 1897, at the time of the Queea's Jubilee, 
struck a warning note against the arrogance of power. 


It is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who 
never inflicts pain. This description is both refined and, as 
far as it goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely 
removing the obstacles which hinder the free and unembar- 

5 rassed action of those about him; and he concurs with their 
movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His bene- 
fits may be considered as parallel to what are called com- 
forts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature : like 
an easy-chair or a good fire, which do their part in dispelling 

10 cold and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest and 
animal heat without them. The true gentleman in like manner 
carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds 
of those with whom he is cast; — all clashing of opinion, or 
collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resent- 

15 ment; his great concern being to make every one at their ease 
and at home. He has his eyes on all his company ; he is tender 
toward the bashful, gentle toward the distant, and merciful 
toward the absurd ; he can recollect to whom he is speaking ; he 
guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irri- 

•20 tate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and never weari- 
some. He makes light of favors while he does them, and seems 
to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks of him- 

392 Elson Orammar School Reader, Book Four 

self except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere 
retort; he has no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in 

55 imputing motives to those who interfere with him, and interprets 
everything for the best. He is never mean or little in his dis- 
putes, never takes unfair advantage, never mistakes personalities 
or sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates evil which he dare 
not say out. From a long-sighted prudence, he observes the 

30 maxim of the ancient sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves 
toward our enemy as if he were one day to be our friend. He has 
too much good sense to be aflfronted at insults; he is too well 
employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to bear malice. 
He is patient, forbearing, and resigned, on philosophical prin- 

85 ciples ; he submits to pain because it is inevitable, to bereavement 
because it is irreparable, and to death because it is his destiny. 
If he engages in controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect 
preserves him from the blundering discourtesy of better, perhaps, 
but less educated minds ; who, like blunt weapons, tear and hack 

40 instead of cutting clean, who mistake the pouit in argument, 
waste their strength on trifles, misconceive their adversai:y, and 
leave the question more involved than they find it. He may be 
right or wrong in his opinion, but he is too clear-headed to be 
unjust; he is as simple as he is forcible, and as brief as he is 

45 decisive. Nowhere shall we find greater candor, consideration, 
indulgence : he throws himself into the minds of his opponents, 
he accounts for their mistakes. He knows the weakness of human 
reason as well as its strength, its province, and its limits. 

Biographical: John Henry Newman, 1801-1890, a distingroislied Prelate 
was bom in London. He gradusCted from Trinily College, Oxford, and 
became noted both as a scholar and a writer. ''Lead, Kindly Light," a 
poem of rare beauty, was written by him while on a voyage in the Mediter- 
ranean Sea. This selection is from his book, **The Idea of a University". 
He was made a cardinal in 1879. 


as in 



as in 



as in 



as in 



as in 



as in 




^ as in event as In note A as in c«t 

e as in maker 6 as in not ti as in turn 

S as in eve as in or a as in unite. 

£ as in met 6 as in obey ^ as in food 

I as in kind ft as in use d6 as in foot 

I as in pin 

a-ban'don (4*b&n'dun), ffive up. 

a-bate'ment (a-bat'm£nt), putting an 
end to. 

ab'bey (ib'i), monastery; convent. 

ab ' ne-ga/ tion (&b ' nt-ga' shun) , de- 

a-boon' (&-bd&n'), Scotch for above. 

Ab'sa-lom (&b's&-ldm). p. 87. See 
note p. 90. 

ab'so-lute (ib'sMut), without any 
limits or conditions. 

ab'sti-nence (&b'stl-n2ns), refraining 
from certain kinds of pleasures. 

ab-stract' (ib-str&kt'), separate. 

a-byss' (i-Ms'), a bottomless gulf. 

A'ca'die^ (i'kii'de/), See note p. 

ac-ces'sion (&k-s2sh'fin), coming into 
possession of. 

ac-cord' (i-kord'), blend. 

ac-co8t * iV kdst ' ) , approach ; speak to. 

ac-cu ' mu-late (&-kfi ' mdl-lat) , collect ; 
store up. 

ac'cu-ra-cy (&k'(ll-r&-sl). exactness. 

ac ' cu-rate-ly (&k ' (i-r&t-ii) , precisely. 

ac ' (lui-es' cence (&k ' wl-es' ins) , a 
yielding or agreeing. 

Act of Nav'i-ga^tion (act of n&v'i- 
ga'shun), an ordinance passed by 
the Briti^ Parliament for the Amer- 
ican colonies by which goods were 
to be imported to the colonies free of 
duty for a period of years, provided 
all goods were sent out of the 
colonies in British ships. 

ad'a-mant (id'A-mint), a stone of 
extreme hardness. 

a-dapt' (^-d&pt')/ fit; change to suit. 

A-da'yes (&-aa'yes), an early settle- 
ment in southwestern United States. 

ad 'died (id "Id), rotten; confused. 

ad'e-quate (&d'£-kw&t), fully sufficient. 

ad-her'ence (&d-h£r'£ns), steady at- 

ad-her'ent (&d-hSr'Snt), clinging; a 

a-dieu' (4-da'). good-by, farewell. 

ad-ju8t' (a-jQst ), fit; to put in order. 

ad-min'is-ter (id-mln'Js-ter), manage 
or conduct (public affairs) ; tender 
an oath. 

ad'mi-ral (&d'ml-r&l), a naval officer 
of the highest rank. 

a-do' (4-doo'). trouble, fuss. 

A-do'nis (4-dd'nls), in Greek mythol- 
ogy* a youth of marvelous beauty. 

a-dop ' tion ( A«d6p ' shfin) , acceptance. 
See note p. 102. 

a-drift' (i-drtff), floating at the mercy 
of the wind and waves. 

ad 'vent (id'vint), coming, approach. 

ad'ver-«a-ry (Wvcr-sA-ri), one op- 
posed, a foe. 

ad verse (id'vgrs), contrary. 

a-«'ri-al (&-£'ri-&l), pertaining to the 
air; lofty. 

Aer'ahot (ar'8k6t), the town Aerschot 
in Belgium, 23 miles northeast of 

af'fa-ble (&f'i-b'n. friendly, gracious. 

af'fec-ta/tion (&f^ek-ta/shdn), an at- 
tempt to assume what is not natural 
or real. 

af'fi-da/vit (ifl-da/vU), a sworn 
statement in writing. 

aft (Aft), near or towards the stern of 
a vessel. 

Ag'as-sia (&g'i-st), a celebrated 
Swiss-American naturalist who 
came to the United States in 1840. 
He was professor of geology at 

ag-gres'sion (&-gr€sh'iin), attack. 

a-ghaat' (&-g4st^), terrified. 

ag'i-tate (ii'i-t&t), stir up; discuss. 

a-gog' (4-gog'), eager. 

ag'o-ny (ag A-ni). great pain. 

aid^ de-camp ' (id/ dt-k&mp ' ; SA^ di- 
kan'), an officer who assists a gen- 
eral in correspondence and in 
directing movements. 

Ai'denn (&'din), paradise (from the 
Arabic word for £den. used by Poe 
for the sake of the rhyme). 

Aiz (lUcs), a city in Prussia, founded 
by the Romans and a favorite res- 
idence of Charlemagne. Aix-la- 
Chapelle (iks'U-sh&'p^r). is the 
French name and Aachen the 

a-kim'bo (4-kim'b6), with hand on 
the hip and elbow turned outward. 

a-lac'ri-ty (A-l&k'ri-ti), cheerful 


A-Ud'din (&-l&d'In), in the "Arabian 
Nights' Entertainments," the posses- 
sor of a wonderful lamp with magic 

a-lar'um (&-l&r'iim), an old form for 

Al'bi-on (2LrbI-iin), an ancient name 
of England. 



Al'byn Ul'hfn). See note p. 79. 

Al'ez-ui/ der fyl ' «g-z&n/ der), sur- 
named "the Great/' was a famous 
conqueror who lived in the fourth 
century B. C. ; founder of Alexandria 
in Egypt. 

•I'ien-ate (il'y&i-&t), make strange; 
take awa/. 

all-ab-aorb'mg (&l-&b-s6rb'ing), tak- 
ing up completely. 

Al'lah (ftria), in the Mohammedan 
faith, the name for God. 

Al-la'htt (&I-la'hd&), probably a Per- 
sian ejaculation. 

aU-be-set ' ting (ol-b^-s^t ' Ing) , sur- 
rounding on all sides. 

al-lese' U-1£J'), declare; affirm. 

al-le^giance (i-lS^jins), loyaltv. 

•I'le-go-ry (&rt-g6-ri), description of 
one thing under the image of an- 
other; parable. 

al-U'ance (&-K'&ns), union of inter- 
ests; league. 

•1-loy' (ft-Ioi'), a baser metal mixed 
with a finer. 

al'oe (&rd). a fragrant plant growing 
in warm climates: the American aloe 
is the centurv plant. 

al'ter-a^tion (ortSr-i/shiin), making 
different; change. 

•1-ter'nate-ly (ftl-t£r'n&t-li). by turns. 

•1-ter'na-tive (&l-tur'n&-tXv), a choice 
between two or more things. 

a-main' (&-min'), with full force. 

am'a-ranth (&m &-rinth), an imag- 
inary flower supposed never to fade. 

Am'ba-ar/en (im'b&-ar/«n). p. 174. 

■m-bas'sa-dor (&m-b&s'&-der), a min- 
ister representing his ruler or coun- 
try at a foreign court. 

■m-bi'tion (im-bfsh'fin), desire for 
honor or power. 

■m-bro ' si-al (&m-br5 ' zhl-&l) , pertain- 
ing to the tabled food of the gods, 
which immortalized them. 

a-mend'ment (&-m2nd'm£nt), a change 
for the better; a change in a bill or 
motion by adding or omitting. 

a'mi-a-ble (&'mM-b'l), lovable, good- 

a-mid' ships (i-mld' ships), in the mid- 
dle of a ship. 

a-mor'pha (4-m6r'fa), a plant be- 
longing to the pea family and having 
blue-violet flowers. 

•m'phi-the^a-tre (&m'ff-the^a-ter), an 
oval or circular building with ris- 
ing tiers of seats about an open 

am 'pie (im'p'l), abundant; full. 

A'mun (a'mon), an Egyptian deity 
generally represented as a ram. 

an cho-rite (an'k6-rit), one who re- 
nounces the world and secludes him- 
self, a hermit. 

and^i'rons (ind^i'iimz), metallic 
stands to support wood in a fireplace. 

an'ec-dote (ftn'ik-dot), a short narra- 
tive of some particular incident. 

Angel of Death. See Exodus, chapter 

Angel of the backward look; memory. 

An^ge-lus (&n'j«-lus), the bell tolled 
in the morning, at noon, and in the 
evening to tell the faithful the time 
for prayer. 

An'gus (an'gfis). See note p. 95. 

an'nals (ftn'alz), historical records. 

a-non' (&-ndn'), in a little while. 

an-tic'i-pate (&n-tis'i-pat), count up- 
on in advance; foresee. 

an-tique' (&n-tek'). old. 

an-tiq'ui-ty (in-trk'wl-tr), great age. 

ap ' a-thet' Ic (&p ' &-th£t^ ik) , without 

ap'a-thv (&p'&-thO. lack of feeling. 

a pex (i'peks), summit; point. 

a-poro-gy (a-pdr6-ji), an acknowl- 
edgment for some injurious act; an 

Ap-o-lo'ni-us (&p-pd-l5'nl-us), a phil- 
osopher and wonder-worker who lived 
at about the same time as Christ. 

a-pos'tro-phe (i-p6s'trA-f*), a speech 
or address to some person or thing 
absent or present. Apostrophe to 
the Ocean, p. 71. 

ap-pall ' ing (&-p61 * !ng) , terrifying. 

ap-par'el (&-p&r'£l), clothing. 

ap-par'ent (a-par'int), clear, plainly 
to be seen. 

ap-peal'ing (&-per!ng), calling for aid 
or sympathy. 

ap ' pre^en^ sion (&p ' rt-hSn/ shiin ) , a 
taking hold of; anxiety. 

ap-prise^ (ft-priz'), inform. 

ap ' pro-ba' tion (&p ' r6-ba^ shun) , lik- 
ing ; consent. 

ap-proz ' i-mate (&-pr5k ' d-mAt) , ap- 
proach; nearly exact. 

arVbesque/ (b-'A-bisk/ ), a kind of 
ornament, brought to high perfec- 
tion by Arabian artists ana con- 
sisting of lines, figures, fruits, flow- 
ers, and men variously grouped. 

A-rach'thus (A-r&k'thiis), the ancient 
name of a river in Greece; modem 

ar'bi-ter (ar'bl-t€r), one appointed to 
determine a controversy; umpire. 

ar'chi-tect (ar'ld-t£kt), one who is 
skilled in planning, designing, and 
constructing buildmgs. 

Ar-dennes' (ar-dfai'). See note, p. 79. 

ar'dent (ar'dint), burning; passionate. 

ar'dor (ar'dSr). heat; zeal. 

ar'du-ous (ar'dA-us), hard, difficult. 

a-re'na (&-re'n&), the sanded area in 
the central part of a Roman amphi- 

ar'go-sv (ar'gft-sl), a large merchant 

ar'gu-ment (ar'gili-mSnt), proof or 
reasons in a controversy. 

Ar-ma'da (ar-ma'd&). See note, p. 74. 

ar'ma-ment (ar'm&-m€nt), arms, ships 
and other equipment for war. 

a-ro'ma (&-rd'mi), fragrance; a spicy 



ar-ray' (i-rft*), clothe; an orderly col- 

ar'ro-gance (&r'6-gins), pride ^ith 
contempt of others. 

ar'ti-fice <ar'tX-f!s), workmanship; 
artful trick. 

ar'ti-san (ar'tl-z&n), one skilled in 
some art or trade. 

as ' cer-tain' (&s ' £r-tan^ ) , learn for 

A'shur (a'shS&r). See note, p. 75. 

a-skance' (a-sk&ns'), sideways. 

aa'pect (&s'p«kt), look. 

as-perse' (as-purs'), sprinkle; de- 

as'pho-del (&8'f6-d£l)( a lily, in Greek 
my tholoffv ■ the special flower of the 
dead. The Ensflish daffodil is de- 
rived from this Greek word. 

as ' pi-ra^ tion (is ' pX-ra' shiin) , strong 
wish, high desire. 

as-sail' (&-s&r), attack violently. 

as-sail'ant (&-sar&nt), one who at- 

as-sault' (&-861t'). a violent attack. 

as-sem'blage (&-sem'bl&j), a company 
of people gathered together. 

as'ai-du/i-ty, (JLs'f-dfl'l-tl), constant 
attention; industry. , 

as-aid'u-ous (&-sXd ii-us), busy; per- 

as-sign' (&-an'). give over. 

Aa-S3rr'i-a (a-s!r^!-I), an ancient state 
in Asia, east of the Tigris river. 

a-ttem' (&-sturn'), in the rear part 
of the ship. 

as-tound'ing (is-tound'Ing), astonish- 

a-«un'der (&-siin'dSr), apart. 

Atch'a-fa-la/ya (&ch'&-f4-U/a), an 
outlet of the Red and Mississippi 
rivers in southern Louisiana. 

a-tilt' (&-tilt'), balanced lightly. 

At-lan'tic Monthly, a magazine first 
published in 1857, with Lowell as 

at-tain' (&-tan'), reach; accomplish. 

at^taint (i-tant'). corrupt: disgrace. 

at-ten/u-at'ed (i-tf"' a.s*'^*,i^ ♦>!;««* 


i-t6n/ A-at'^W), thinned, 

at'ti-tude (at'!-tfid), position; feeling. 

at-trib'ute (a-trib'At), give; refer. 

at ' tri-bute (it * rl-bat) , characteristic ; 

au-dac ' i-ty (o-d&s ' !-ti) , boldness. 

au'di-ble (6'd!-b'l), capable of being 

au'di-tor (6'd!-ter), a hearer. 

au-gust' (o-g&st'). majestic; solemn. 

au-ro'ral (o-ro'r&l), pertaining to the 
dawn, rosy. 

aus-tere' (68-ter')i severe. 

aus-ter ' i-tjr ^s-t£r ' i-tf) , severity ; 
severe simplicity. 

au-then'tic (o-then'tlk), true; genu- 

au'to-crat (6't6-krat), an absolute 

a-vaif (a-var), help; be of use. 

A've Ma-ri/a (a'vS ma-rfi/a). Hail 
Mary, first words of a Roman Cath- 
olic prayer to the Virgin Mary. The 
words are those of the Angel Gabriel, 
hence the prayer is called the 

a-venge' (4-v«nj'), punish in order to 
execute justice. 

a-ver'sion (a-vur' shiin), dislike. 

a-vert' (a-vurt'), turn aside. 

a-wry' U-ri'), turned or twisted; 

aye and a-non' (& and &-ndn'), con- 

A-zores' (4-z6rz'), a group of islands 
m the Atlantic belonging to Portu- 
gal, and 800 miles west of it. 

assure (Szh'iir), the clear blue color 
of the sky. 

Ba'al (ba'il), the supreme god of 

the Assyrians, p. 75. 
Bab>-lo/nish jargon (bib'Mo'nfoh). 

unintelligible language. See story of 

the "tower of Babel?* Gen. XI. 
bac'cha-nal (b&k'd-n&l), a carouser; a 

follower of Bacchus, the god of 

Bac-chant'es (b&-k&n't€z), priestesses 

of Bacchus, the god of wine, 
bairn (barn), Scottish name for a 

Ba'la-kla/va (b&'l&-kla/v&), a city in 

the Crimea on the Black Sea. 
bal'dric (b6rdr!k), a broad belt worn 

over the shoulder and under the 

opposite arm. 
bal'lad (b&r&d), a short poem tellias 

a story, 
balm (bam), anything that soothes 

balm in Gilead (bam in gfl'^-id). a 

biblical expression meaning comfort 

or healing, 
balm'y (bam 'Of mild; soothing; 

ban'dit (bSn'dU). an outlaw, 
bane ' f ul (ban ' fool) , injurious. 
Ban 'nock-burn (b&n'iik-bum), a bat- 
tlefield in Scotland upon which 

Robert Bruce defeated the English. 
Bap'tiste^ Le-blanc' (b&'test' 12 

blan'). See p. 224. 
bar (bar), the legal profession, 
bard (bard), a poet, 
barge (barj), a boat, 
ba-rom'e-ter (bi-r6m'*-t€r), an instru- 
ment for determining the weight or 

pressure of the atmosphere. 
ba-rouche' (ba-robsh'), four-wheeled 

carriage, with a falling top, and two 

double seats on the inside, 
bar 'rack (b&r'4k), a building ^ for 

soldiers, especially when in garrison, 
bar'ri-er (bir'X-Sr), an obstruction or 

bask (b&sk). warm; lie comfortably, 
baste (bast), drip fat on meat in 



bat'ter-y (Mt'ir-I). two or more 
pieces of artillery in the field. 

bay'o-net (ba'6-n£t)» a dagger fitted 
on the muzzle of a musket. 

bay'ou (bi'd&)« an inlet from a gulf, 
lake, or large river. 

Beau Se-jour' (bd-si-zh5%r'), a French 
fort upon the neck of land connect* 
ing Acadia and the mainland. It 
had just been taken by the British, 
p. 206. 

"beard the li-on,'* defy. 

Beautiful Gate, an entrance to the 
temple in Jerusalem. See Acts III- 
2 and John X-T. 

Beautiful River, the Ohio. 

beck (b«k). call. 

bee'tling (b€'tlliig), projectmg: jutting 

Beg (big), p. 19. 

be-got'ten (bt-g6t"n), caused to 
exist ; born. 

be-guile' (b«-gir), relieve the tedium 
or weariness of, entertain 

bel'fry (b«rfri), a bell tower. 

Bell, name of an inn. 

Belle Au-rore' (b«l 6-rdr'). the dawn. 

••bell or book." religious ceremony. 

Belle-fon-taine' (b«l-fdn-t&n'), p. 190. 

bel-lig'er-ent (b£-lij'er-ent), waging 

bel'lows (b^rdz), an instrument for 
driving air through a tube. 

••belt-ed knight," ^rt .with a belt as 
an honorary distmction. 

ben ' e-dic/ i-te (bSn ' i-dls^ I-t«) . a chant 
or hymn, the Latin version of which 
begins with this word: an exclama- 
tion corresponding to "Bless you I" 

ben ' e-dic/ tion (bin ' £-dIk/ sh&i) , a 

be-nef 'i-cence . (b^-nef'J-sfcis), good- 
ness or charity. 

be-nign' (b£-nin')» of a kind disposi- 

be-nig'nant (bi-nlg'n&nt), kind. 

be-seech' (b*-s8ch^), entreat, 

be-stead' (b£-st€d'), put in peril. 

bes'tial (bes'ch&l), beastly; vile. 

be-stow' (bt-std'), give; grant. 

be-troth'al (bi-troth'&l), contract to 
anyone for a marriage. 

bev'er-age (b«v'er-4j), drink. 

bick'er (blk'Sr)^ move quickly with 
a pattering noise, p. 44. 

bier (ber), a frame on which a corpse 
is borne to the grave. 

big'ot (big 'fit), one blindly devoted to 
his own opinion; narrow-minded. 

big ' ot-ry (big ' flt-ri ) , narrow-minded- 

bi-o^'ra-phy (bJ-6g'rA-ft), the written 
history of a person's life. 

birk'ie (bur'kn. See note, p. 9a 

blanch (bl4nch), take the color out 
of; whiten. 

bias ' phe-niQr (bl&s ' f^-mf) . impious 
speech against Crod or sacred things. 

blast (bl&st), a violent gust of wind. 

bit 'toned (bl&'2*nd), ftdomed, de- 
picted in color. 

blithe (blith), gay, joyous. 

blithe 'some (buth'sum), happy, gay. 

Blon>'i-don (bI6m1-diin), a moun- 
tain in Nova Scotia. 

bod 'kin (bdd'kin), a pointed imple- 
ment for making holes in cloth. 

bonds 'man (bdndz'm&n), one who 
gives security for another. 

••bonnet and plume." a soft cap worn 
by men in Scotland. 

Boom (bdm). a town in Belgium. 

boon (b€&n), a gift; bountiful; gay. 

boot 'less (bSbt'Tes). useless. 

Bor'der (bor'dCr), the frontier be- 
tween England and Scotland. 

"bore the bell," carried off the prize. 
A bell was formerly used as a prize 
in races. 

bosk'y (bds'k!). woody or bushy. 

bos'om (b^bz'fim). the breast. 

Both'ni-a (b5th'nf-&). Gulf of— -the 
northern arm of the Baltic Sea be- 
tween Finland and Sweden. 

boun'ti-ful (boun'tI-fd61), liberal. 

bourn (bdm), a boundary; limit. 

bow (bou), the forward part of a ship, 
p. 39 (bo) to rhyme with tow. 

Bow'doin (b6'd*n}, in Brunswick, 
Maine, college from which Long- 
fellow graduated in 1825. 

Bos-sar'is, Mar'co (bft-z&r'Is, Mar' 
kd). See note, p. 84. 

brack 'ish (br&k'Ish). saltish; distaste- 

Brad'dock (br&d'fik). a British gen- 
eral who met defeat and was killed 
in 1765. 

Bra-gan'sa (bra-gan'sa), a reigning 
family of Portugal. 

brake (brik), a fern; a thicket. 

brawl (brol), noise; quarrel. 

breach (brteh), an opening in; a 

break 'ers (br&k'€rz), waves breaking 
into foam against the shore. 

breech 'es (brlch'gz), trousers. 

Bret 'on (brit'fin), a province of 

brig (brig), a two-masted vessel. 

bri-gade' (bri-gSd'), a body of troops 
larger than a regiment. 

brink (brink), verge or edge. 

Brit 'ish Min Ms-try, the British (Gov- 

Brit 'on (brTt'iin), a native of Eng- 

broad/ side' (brod'rid'), the side of a 
ship above the water line, from bow 
to quarter. 

broad/ sword' (brod'sdrd'), .a sword 
with a broad blade arid cutting edge. 

Brook Farm, a farm near Boston, 
where an experiment in agriculture 
and education was tried by a group 
of literary people. 

Bruns'wick (brunz-wTk), Duke of 
Brunswick (Frederick William) was 



killed in the enflraffement described, 
p. 78. 

Bru'tufl (bro&'tus), a Roman politi- 
cian who joined in the assassination 
of Caesar. 

Buck'holm (biUc'hdm). p. 174. 

bu£E'coat (biif'kdt), a military coat 
made of buff leather. 

buffet (biif'6t). a blow. 

bulk/ head' (bulk/hed'). a wall to re- 
sist pressure of earth or water. 

Bun-ker Hill, a hill near Boston where 
a famous battle was fought. 

buoy'anoCy (bou'&n-s!), lightness. 

burg'er (bur'g^r), an inhabitant of a 

bur'gess-es (bur'jSs-2s). citizens of a 

Bur-gun^ di-an (bur-gfin ' dl-&n) , per- 
taining to Burgundy, a provmce of 
France on the Rhone river. 

bus 'kin (biis'kin), a covering for the 
foot and leg, worn by tragic actors. 

ca'd (ca'd), Scotch for called. 

ca'dence (k&'d^ns), a fall of the voice; 

Cad mus (k&d'miis), in Greek legend 
the founder of Thebes and intro- 
ducer of the letters of the Greek 

Cae'^Bar, luliui (s6'z4r). (100 B. C— 
44 B. C), a famous Roman general, 
statesman and writer.* 

Cai'us Ma'ri-us (k&'yiis m^'r^-us). 
See note, p. 884. 

ca-lam ' i-ty (k&-l&m ' !-tl) , misfortune ; 

cal'en-der (kirfai-d«r), one whose 
business it is to press cloth or paper 
between cylindrical rollers. 

carum-ny (k&rum-nl), slander. 

"Calvin's creed." Calvin was a cele- 
brated reformer whose doctrines are 
noted for their severity. 

Cam'er-on (k&m'er-5n). See note, p. 

can 'did (kan'did). frank; open. 

Can'no-bie Lee (k&n'd-b8 18), a lea 
or large open space in Scotland. 

can'non-ade/ (kan'iin-Sd/ ), a dis- 
charging of cannon. 

ca-pac I-ty ( k&-p&s ' I-ti) , power. 

"cap and bells," the tokens or signs of 
a jester or clown, therefore, foolish 

Cape Par mas (par mas), a promon- 
tonr on the coast of Liberia, western 

ca'per (ka'pcr), "cutting a caper," 
to leap about in a frolicsome man- 

ca'pon (ka'p6n), choice chicken. 

ca-price (ki-pr€s'), whim, fancy., 

Cap'u-a (c&p'ii-a). an ancient city in 
Italv near Naples, famous for its 
wealth and luxury. 

ca-reer' (kd-rcr'), move rapidly. 

car'ri-on (kir'I-fin), dead and decay- 
ing flesh of an animal. 

Car'thage (kar'thAj), an ancient city 
in northern Africa. Its wars with 
Rome are known as the Punic Wara. 

case' men t (leas' m£nt), a hinged win- 
dow sash. 

caa'u-al (k&zh'ii-&l), happening with- 
out regularity. 

cath'o-Uc (k&th'5-l!k), liberal. 

caul'dron (kol'driin), a large kettle. 

cause 'way (kdz'wi), raised road over 
wet ground. 

cav'al-cade/ (kav'il-k4d/), a proces- 
sion of persons on horseback. 

ce-les'tial (s4-l«8'chftl), heavenly, 

cen'o-taph (s€n'6-t&f), a monument 
to one buried elsewhere. 

cen'aer (s«n's«r), a vessel in which 
incense is burned. 

ccn'aor-ahip (s£n'sdr-sh!p), office or 
power to examine papers for the 
press and suppress what is thought 

cen'sure (s^n'shiir). blame. 

cen ' tu-ry-cir-cled (s«n ' tCl-ri-sur ' k*ld), 
having a hundred circles, indicating 
its age. 

ces-sa'tton (sS-s&'shiin), pause, stop. 

ces'tus (sis'tfis), girdle. 

chaise (shftz), a two-wheeled carriage. 

chal'ice (ch&l'fs), a cup. 

Chalk-ley's Journal. Thomas Cbalkley 
was a traveling Quaker preacher. 
His journal, published in 1747, told 

_ of his many wonderful experiences. 

Cham'bered Nau'ti-lua (cham'bSrd 
no'tMiis), a shellfish belonging to 
the highest class of mollusks. 

Chan 'eel (ch4n's£l), that part of a 
church containing the altar. 

chan'ti-cleer (ch&n^ti-klSr), a cock, so 
called from his clear voice in 

cha'os (k&-5s), disorder. 

cha-ot'ic (ki-6t'!k), confused. 

chap ' let (ch&p ' l£t ) , wreath. 

char'ac-ter-ize (kir'ik-tSr-iz). de- 

chasm (kiz'm), d^ep opening, gap. 

Chat ' ta-hoo/ chee (chit ' i-h66/ ch4), 
a river in Georgia which forms 
part of ■ its western boundarv. 

chaunt (ch4nt), song, especially one 
that is solemn and slow. 

Cheap 'side (chep'sSd), the central 
east-and-west street of London, 
formerly a market. "Chepe" is the 
old English word for market. 

Cher'so-nese (kur's6-nez), Athenians 
who had colonized the peninsula be- 
tween the Hellespont and the Gulf 
of Melos. Miltiades ruled over 

chi-mer'i-cal (kl-m2r'!-k&l), unreal, 

chiv'al-ry (shTv'&l-ri), manners of 
knighthood, courtesy. 

chow'der (chou'd^r), a dish made of 
fresh fish or clams, biscuit, etc.. 
stewed together. 



chron't-cle (kr&n'Mc*l), historical 

churl' ifth (chur'lish),, rough, ill bred. 

ci ' de-vant^ (s* ' d€-van/ ) , former. 

cir'cuit (sur'kit), a regular journey 
from place to place; the district 
journeyed over. 

cir ' cum-scribe' (sur ' kum-skrib^ ) , in- 
close, encircle. 

cit'a-del (slt'A-dil). fortress. 

"civ'il feuds" (slv^D fuds). quarrels 
within one's own country. 

dam 'or (kl&m'er), an outcry; uproar. 

clan (kl&n). See note. p. 93. 

clang (kl&ng), strike together so as to 
produce a ringing metallic sound. 

dan'gor (kl&n'gSr), a sharp, harsh, 
ringing sound. 

clap 'board (kl&p'b5rd), a narrow 
board, thicker at one edge than at 
the other, for weatherboarding 

cleave (klSv), cling; open or crack. 

cleft (kl£ft). crack, crevice. 

dam'ent (ki£m'int), mild. 

der'gy (klur'jO* a body of ministers 
of the gospel. 

doud-ves'ture (kloud-vis'tiir), clothing 
of clouds. 

Co-che'cho (kd-ch£'chd), Indian name 
for Dover, N. H. 

cocked' hat (k6kt), a hat with the 
brim turned up. 

co-he 'sion (k6-he'zhiin), close union. 

co'hort (kd'hort), in the ancient Ro- 
man army, a body of about 500 sol- 

coil (koil), p. 103 trouble; the body. 

co-in'ci-dence (kMn'sX-d£ns), a hap> 
pening at the same time. 

co-loa'sal (kd-lds'il), of enormous 

Co-man 'chea (k6-m&n'ch£z), a tribe 
of Indians noted for their warlike 

come'ly (kum'll), pleasing. 

com'ment (kdm'ent)^ meditate upon; 
a remark or criticism. 

com-mia ' sion-er ( kd-m!sh ' iin-€r) an 
officer having charge of some de- 
partment of public service. 

corn-mod ' i-ty ( k6-m5d ' I-ti ) , goods, 

com'murnal (k6m'i!k-n&l), having prop- 
erty in common. 

com-mune' (k6-mun'), take counsel. 

com-mu ' ni-cate ( k5-mu ' n!-kat) , make 

com-mun'ion (kd-mfin'yun), inter- 

com 'pass (kiim'pis). size, capacity. 

com ' pen-aate (k6m p€n-sat) , recom- 
pense or reward. 

com-pete' (kdm-p£t'), seek or strive 
for the same thing. 

com'pe-tence (k6m'p4-tcns), property 
sufficient for comfort. 

com-pla ' cen-cy ( k5m-pla ' sSn-si) , self- 

convpli ' ance (kom-pli ' &ns) , yielding. 

com-ply' (kdm-pK'), yield, assent. 

com-po ' nent (kom-pd ' nint) , compoa- 
ing; an inffredient. 

corn-port' (kom-port'), agree or suit, 

com-poae' (k5m-pdz'), put together; 

com ' po-ai/ tion (kdm 'p6-zi$h' iSn ), 

combination, make-up. 

com-po 'sure (k5m-p6'zhilkr), calm. 

com '^pre-hend^ ( k6m ' pr6-h&id/ ) , un- 

com ' pre-hen^ sion (k6m 'pr^-hcn/ shian), 
perception, understanaing. - 

com ' pre-hen/ sive ( jcdm ' prt -hSn/ siv) , 
including much. 

com-prcaaed' (kdm-pr^sf) pressed to- 

com-priae' (k5m-priz'), include. 

com '^pro-miae ( kdm ' pr6-miz) , an 
agreement in which all parties con- 
cerned flive up something. 

con 'cave <k5n'k&v), hollow and curved 

con-ceal' (kdn-sSl'), hide from ob- 

con-cede' (kdn-sed'), grant or allow. 

con-cei ve ' (k6n-s£v ' ) , understand ; 

con-cen'ter (k5n-s£n'ter), bring to. or 
meet in a common center; condense. 

con'cen-trate (kdn's^n-trat), bring to, 
or meet in a common center; con- 
dense. • 

con-cen'tric (kdn-sin'trUc), having a 
common center. 

con-cep'tion (kdn-sSp'shiin), forma- 
tion in the mind of an imaga or 

con-cil'i-ate (kon-sflT-at), reconcile, 

con-du'sive (kon-kld^'slv), convinc- 
ing; final. 

con 'cord (kdn'kord), state of agree- 
ment; harmony. 

con-cur ^rence Ckdn-kiir'Sns), agree- 
ment in opinion. 

con-duce' (kon-dus') lead or tend. 

con-found' (kon-found') confuse; 

con-geal' (kfin-jel'), freeze; thicken. 

con ' gre-gate (k6n ' gr^-git) , assemble. 

con-jure*^ (kfin-jfior'), call on solemn- 

con 'jure (kun'jer), call forth or ex- 
pel by magic arts. 

con'jur-mg book (kiin'jSr-ing), a copy 
of Cornelius Agrippa*s "Magic, * 
printed in 1657. 

con-nu'bi-al (ko-nu'bl-il), pertaining 
to marriage. 

Con 'script Fathers (kdn'skript), a 
translation of a certain form used 
in addressing the senate of ancient 
Rome. * 

con'se-crate Ckdn's^-krSt), dedicate, 

con-serv'a-tive (k6n-sur'va.-tlv), op- 
posed to change; safe. 

con-sign' (kon-an'), intrust; deliver. 



coa-siit'ent (kSn-sIs'tj^nt), not con- 
tradictory; having harmony among 
its parts. 

eon'strue (kon'strdd), interpret, ex- 

con'sul (k6n'8iil), commercial agent 
of a government in a foreign coun- 
try; a majg^strate. 

con-sume' (kon-sum') destroy; swal- 
low up. 

con ' Bum-ma' tion ( k5n ' su-m&^ shihi ) , 
achievement: end. 

con-ta ' gious ( k6n-t§ ' jiis) , catching. 

con'tem-plate (k6n'tim-pl&t), view; 

con-tempt 'i-ble , (k5n-temp'tl-b'l), de- 
serving disdain ; despised. 

con-temp ' tu-ous (kon-timp ' tii-iis) , 


con-ten 'tion (k5n-tSn'shiin), strife. 

con-tex ' ture (k6n-t*ks ' tiir) , system ; 

con'ti-nu'i-ty (k6n'tJ-nu'!-tO. the be- 
ing continuous. 

con 'trite (kdn'trit), humbly penitent. 

con->tri'tion (kdn-tnsh'un), self re- 

con ' tu-me-ly (k5n ' t(l-mt-U) , disdain, 

con-vene ' ( kon-ven ' ) , assemble. 

con 'vex (kdn'vSks), rising or swelling 
into a rounded form; opposite from 
concave. . 

con/vo-lut'ed (kdn/ vMut'W), rolled 
together, one part upon another. 

con-vulse' (kdn-vflls') contract vio- 
lentlv and irregularly. 

coof (kSbi). See note p. 98. 

coot (kd&t). a kind of duck. 

co'pi-ous (kd'pl-fis), plentiful. 

cop^pice (kSp'is), a grove of small 

cor'bel (k6r'bW), a bracket. 

cord 'age (kor'dAj), anything made of 
rope or cord. 

cor-rob'o-rate (k6-r6b'6-rat), make 
more certain, confirm. 

cor-nipt' (kd-rfipt'.), change from 
good to bad. 

cone (kors), a corpse. 

corse 'let (kors'l^t). breastplate. 

Cor'si-ca (kdr'si-k&), an island in the 
Mediterranean, belonging to France, 
the birthplace of Napoleon. 

Cos 'sacks (kds'&ks), a military peo- 
ple inhabiting the steppes of Russia. 

coun'cil (koun^sll), assembly or meet- 
ing, assembly for advice. 

conn sel (koun's^l), interchange of 
opinions ; advise. 

coun'te-nance (koun'tl-nans), appear- 
ance of the face, the features. 

coun'ter-feit (koun'ter-fit), that which 
resembles another thing; carry on a 

coun/ ter-part ' (koun/ tSr-part ' ) , a 
copy, duplicate. 

Cou ' reur/ -de-bois ' (k<55 ' rur' de-b wa ' ) , 
a clasa of men, French by birth, 
who, through long association with 

the Indians were only half-civilized. 
Their chief occupation was conduct- 
ing the canoes of the traders along 
the lakes and rivers of the interior. 

cou'ri-er (k<5&'rI-Sr), a messenger. 

Court of St. James, the official name 
of the British court. St. James's 
Palace was formerly the royal res- 

cour'te-ous (kur't^-iis), polite. 

cour'te-sy (kur't£-si), good breeding. 

cove (kov), a small inlet or bay. 

cov'ert-ly (kflv'4rt-H), secretly. 

cov'et (xuv'^t), long for. 

craft (kr&ft), art or skill; a vessel. 

crag (kr&g), steep, rugged rock. 

Craig 'ie House (krag'i), the house in 
Cambridge in which Longfellow 
lived from 1836 until his death. 
During the Revolution, it had been 
Washington's headquarters. 

crane (kran), an iron arm fastened 
to a fireplace and used for support- 
ing kettles over the fire. 

cran^ny (kr&n'!), a chink. 

crank (kr&nk), top-heavy. 

cra'ven (krS'v'n), coward; faint- 

craw (kro), crop or stomach. 

cre-den'tials (krt-din'shftlz), testimo- 
nies of the bearer's right to recog- 

cred'i-tor (kr8d'I-t€r), one to whom 
money is due. 

cred'u-lous (kr£d'i^-liis), apt to be- 
lieve on slight evidence. 

Creeks (krekz), a powerful confeder- 
ation of Indians who occupied the 
greater part of Alabama and Geor^a. 

cres'cent (kres'int). the increasing 
moon; anything shaped like a new 
moon; emblem of the Turkish Em- 

crest (krist), upper curve of a horse's 

crev'ice (kriv'is), a narrow crack. 

cri'er (kri'cr), one who gives notice 
by proclamation. 

cri-te'ri-on (kri-t8'rl-iin), standard of 

crit'ic (krit'Ik), one skilled in judg- 

crit'i-cal (krit'I-kil), decisive; impor- 

Crois'ic-kese (kroiz'f-kSz), an inhab- 
itant of Croisic, a small fishing- 
village near the mouth of the Loire. 
Here Browning wrote Herve Riel. 

Crom'well. Oliver (1599-1658). com- 
mander-in-chief of the parliamentary 
forces in the struggle with Charles 
I of England. 

cro'nies (kro'nXz), intimate compan- 

cross (krSs), emblem of the Roman 
Catholic church. 

croupe (kro&p), the place on the horse 
benind the saddle. 

cru'ci-fix (kr(5&'si-flks), a represent- 



ation of the figure of Christ upon 
the cross. 

cruise (krd&z), a voyage in various di- 

crypt (kript), a vault; cell for burial 

cryi'tal-ine (kris't&l-ln), pure; trans- 
parent; consisting of crystal. 

cul'prit (ktirprlt), a criminal. 

cum ber-less (Idim ' bSr-lSs) , without 

cum'broos (kiim'brfis), burdensome. 

ciu'ning (kiin'uig), skill. 

"cunning-warded kevt," knowledge 
which comes only from close obser- 
vation and which is hidden from 
the less observant. 

curb (kurb), to keep in check. 

cur 'few (kur'ffi), an evenins bell, orig- 
inally to cover fires ana retire to 

cur 'lew (kur'lfl), a wading bird, hav- 
ing a long, curved bill. 

cut 'torn (kus'tiim), duty or toll im- 
posed by law on commodities 
imported or exported. 

cy-lin ' dri-cal ( sl-Un ' drT-k&l) , having 
the form of a cylinder. 

Dal' hem (d&r^Sm), town in Bel^um. 

dal'li-ance (d&l'I-&ns), delay; inter- 
change of caresses. 

Dam'fre-ville (d&m'frS-vn), command- 
er of the fleet. 

Dan'te's Divine Comedy (d&n't«), 
celebrated Italian poem in three 
parts, "Hell," "Purgatory," "Para- 

dap 'per (d&p'er), little and active; . 

dark ' ling (dark ' Ifng) , gloomy. 

Dart 'mouth (dart'muth), college at 
Hanover, N. H. 

das'tard (d&s't&rd)« coward. 

daunt 'ed (dant'M), dismayed. 

daunt 'less (dant'I£s), fearless. 

David. See p. 90. 

"dead of night," middle of the night. 

dearth (durtii), want, lack. 

de-bat 'a-ble (d^-b&t'A-b'l), open to 
question or dispute. 

de-cease' (d£-ses^)» death. 

de-ci'sive (d^-si'slv), positive, final. 

de-co'rum (dt-kd'r&m), proper con- 

deH:ree' (d^-krS'), law; decision given 
by a court or umpire. 

de-crep'it (d*-kr6p'It), worn out with 

deem'ing (d^m'Ing), thinking. 

de-faced (d^-fast'J, disfigured, marred. 

de-fer' (d*-fur'), postpone; yield to 

. the wishes of another. 

def'er-ence (d4f'2r-€ns), respect. 

de-fi'ance (di-fi'ins), disposition to 

de-file' (d*-f!r), pass between hills. 

de-flow 'er (di-flou'8r), deprive of 
flowers: take away the beauty of. 

de-fy' iii-n'), dare. 

de-gen ' er-ate (d£-j<n ' €r*&t) , grcm 

worse or meaner, 
de'i-ties (d^'f-tlz), heathen gods, 
del'e-gate (d^l't-gftt), tend as one's 

de-lib 'er-ate (dMIb'Sr-it), not hasty; 
(d^-lib'er-it), weigh in one's mind. 

de-lin'e-ate (d£-Un'£-&t), represent by 
sketch ; describe. 

de-Ur'i-ous (d£-llr'l-&s), wild with 

De'los (de'15s), the smallest island of 
the Cyclades, according to legend 
originally a floating island and the 
birUiplace of Apollo. 

dd'nge (d^l'iij), flood. 

de-lu^ton (d^-lii'zhun), deception for 
want of knowledge. 

de-lu'sive (di-liS'sIv). deceptive. 

de-mean 'or (d^-mSn'er), behavior. 

de'mon (d£ mdn), evil spirit. 

de-mo 'ni-ac (d£-m5'nl-&k), like a de- 

de-note 'ment (dt-ndt'm£nt), sign or 

de-plor'a-bly (d*-pl6r'A-bH). grievously. 

de-pos'i-to-ries (d4-p6z'f-tA-riz), place 
where anything is stored for keeping. 

de-prav'i-ty (d^-prav'I-tl), corrup- 
tion, wickedness. 

de-ri'sion (d4-rirh'fin), insult. 

de-scent' (d£-s£nt'), a passing down- 

de-scried' (d«-skrid'). saw, beheld. 

des'trt (d<z'*rt), solitary; empty. 

des'ig-nate (d£s'fg-nat), point out. 

de-sist' (di-zlst'). stop. 

des'o-late-ness (dte'd-l&t-nSs), state of 
being desolate or lonely. 

de-spair' (d«-spar'). give up hope. 

des '^per-ata (d6s '^pgr-it) , hopeless, 

des'pi-ca-ble (dfa'pI-kA-bl). fit to be 
despised; mean. 

de-spond'ent (d4-sp6n'd«nt), low spir- 

des 'pot-ism (dSs'p6t-!z'm), tyranny. 

des'tined (djis'tind), marked out. 

des'ti-ny (d«s't!-n!), doom, fate. 

de-tahied' (d«-tftnd')* kept back or 
from; delayed. 

de-tract' (d«-trakt'). take away. 

de-trac'tor (d«-tr&k'tcr), one who 

de'vi-ate (de'vI-St), so out of the way. 

de-vice' (di-vis'), design: invention. 

de ' vi-ous ( di ' vl-us ) , wandering. 

de-void' (d*-void'), destitute. 

dev'o-tee^ (div'6-t€/), one wholly 

de-vout'ly (di-vout'll), earnestly. 

dex-ter'i-ty (d«ks.t«r'l-tl). skill. 

dez'ter-ous (diks't£r-iis), skillful, art* 

dif-fuse' (dl-ffiz'), spread. 

dight (dit), adorn. 

dig'ni-ties (dig'm-tiz), honors. 

dike (dik), embankment to prevent 

dil'i-gence (dU'i-j&is), industry. 



dln'ning (din'fng), incessant talking.' 

"dire-atruck," struck with terror. 

dirge (durj), funeral hymn. 

dia-cem' (di-zum'), see, detect. 

dis'ci-pline (dis'i-plin), training; pun- 

dis-con' to-late (d!s-k5n'86*lAt), sor- 
rowful, comfortless. 

dia-cord'ant (dis-kor'd&nt). not har- 

dis-coun'te-nance (dls-koun't^-n&ns), 
not approve of; discourage. 

dis-course ' ( dis-kor s ' ) . conversation. 

dis-cred ' it (dls-kr£d ' !t) , disbeUef . 

dis'em-b^gue' (d!s'£m-b$g' ), dis- 
charge: flow out. 

dis-giuse^ (dis-giz'), change the ap- 
pearance of. 

dis-mem'ber (dls-m€m'ber), disjoint. 

disperse' (dis-ptirs'), scatter. 

dis^pu-ta'tion (dls'pA-tS'shun), dis- 
pute, a reasoning on opposite sides. 

dis-quari-fy (dis-kwdl i-fi), render un- 

dis-sev'er (d!-s«v'5r), part in two. 

dis ' so-lu' tion (dis ' 6-1&' shiin) , sepa- 
rating into parts. 

dia ' so-nant ( dis ' 6-n&nt) , sounding 
harshly, discordant. 

dis'taff (dU'tif), a staff holding a 
bunch of flax, tow, or wool, from 
which thread is spun by hand. 

dis-tend ' ed (dis-t£nd ' hA) , lengthened 

dis-tort ' ed (dis-tort ' ed) , twisted, 

dit'to (dU'6), exact copy. 

di -verge' (<U-vurj'). extend from a 
common point in different directions. 

di'vers (<K'verz), several, different. 

di-vert' (dl-vurt'), turn aside. 

di-vest' (di-v€st'), deprive; strip. 

di-vine' (di-vin'), godlike; foretell. 

di-vin'l-tv (dl-v!n'i-ti), deity. God. 

doc'ile (dds'n), easily managed. 

doc 'trine (d6k'trin), principle of faith. 

doflf (d6f), put off (dress). 

doring (dol'n'g), giving out scantily 
or grudginely. 

do-mes'tic (do-mJSs'tik), pertaining to 
one's home. 

dom'i-na/tion (d6m'i-na' shiin), exer- 

' cise of power in ruling; authority. 

dor'mer-win'dow (dor'mer), a vertical 
window in a sloping roof. 

''double-reefed trysail,**^ a sail reduced 
in extent doubly to adapt it to the 
force of the wind. 

doub'let (diib'lSt), a close-fitting coat, 
formerly worn. 

dow'er (dou'€r), that with which one 
is gifted or endowed. 

dra'ma (dra'mi), a picture of human 
life, especially for representation on 
the stage. 

draught (drift), act of drinking. 

draw/ bridge', a bridge which may be 
raised or let down. 

"drink the cup," a biblical expression 

. meaning endure. 

dross (dros), waste matter, dregs. 

Dm 'ids (drd5'Idz), ancient Celtic 

du'bi-ous (dfi'bX-us), doubtful, ques- 

dune (dun), a low hill of drifting sand. 

dy'nas-ty (di'n&s-tX), sovereignty, do- 

eb'o-ny (Sb'iin-I), a hard wood capa- 
ble of a fine polish; black. 

•c'sta-sy (£k'sta-si), a state of over- 
mastering feeling; height. 

ed'dy (idHl), move in a circle; whirl- 

ed'i-fice (£d'^fls), splendid building. 

ef-fect'ed (6-fikt'M), accomplished, p. 

ef'fi-ca/ clous (ef'!-ka/sh{is), capable 
• of producing a desired effect, 
ef'fi-ca-cy (ef^J-ka-sI). force, 
ef-fi'cient (i-flsh'int), active, helpful 
ef-ful'gence (€-ffirj«ns), great luster 

or brightness. 
eke (ek), also. 

e-lec'tion (t-l£k'shfin), choice p. 353. 
el'e-va'tion ( 61' 4-va/ shiin), height, 
elfin (Sl'fln), relating to little elves 

or fairies. 
Elf'land («lf']2Lnd), fairy land. 
E-li'jah (fc-U'ja), II Kings, 2. 11. 
ero-quence (a'd-kw«ns), effective 

Ellwood, Thomas, a Quaker, who was 

a friend of Milton, and wrote a long 

poem on King David. 
E-ly'sian Fields (6-lizh'&n), the fa- 
bled dwelling place of happy souls 

after death, 
e-man ' ci-pa' titfn (£-m&n ' sf-pS' shun) , 

em-bar 'go (£m-bar'gd), restraint p. 

em'bas-sy (2m'bi-sl), a solemn mes- 

em'ber (cm'b8r), a lighted coal, 
smoldering amid ashes. 

em-bla ' zon (em-bla ' z*n) . illuminate, 
make light and be.*Jtitul. 

em'blem (6m'bl£m), visible sign of an 

em-bos 'omed (im-booz'flmd), shel- 

em-bra 'sure («m-bra'zhftr^, a window 
having its sides slanted on the in- 

e-merge' (4-murj'), appear. 

e-mer^gen-cy (*-mur'jen-si), necessity. 

em'i-nence (6m'I-n€ns), height 

em'i-nent-ly (4m'i-n5nt-ll), highly. 

em ' u-la/ tion (im ' ii-la/ shfin) , great 
desire to excel. 

en-chant 'resB (6n-ch4n'tr£s), a wicked 
fairy, who weaves spells over her 

en-co ' mi-um ( £n-k5 ' ml -iim) , high 

en-com'pass (6n-kiira'p&s), surround. 

en-core' (an-kor', an'kor), again; the 


cn-coim'ter (Sn-koun'tSr), a meeting 
face to face. 

enocroach' (in-krdch')^ enter gradu- 
ally into another's rights. 

En-cy ' clo-pae' di-a Brit-an ' ni-ca ( &!• 
8Vkl6-pef di'k bri-tin'i-ki), a dic- 
tionary of the arts, sciences, and 

en-deav ' or (ftn-dcv ' er) , ^ effort. 

en-dow' (£n-dou'), enrich. 

en ' er-vate ( 6n ' €r-vat) , weaken. 

en-hance * (£n-h4ns ' ) , increase. 

en-join' (in-join'), urge. 

en-rapt 'ured (^n-rip'tftrd), delighted 
bevond measure. 

en 'sign (£n'sin), banner; national flag. 

en-treat 'y (4n-tret'J), an earnest re- 

en-vel'op («n-vgrfip), wrap in. 

ep'au-let (€p'6-l€t), a shoulder orna- 
ment worn by military and naval 
officers, and indicating differences of 

ep'ic (gp'ik), an heroic poem. 

ep'i-cur-ism (€p'i-kur-iz*m), pleasures 
of the table. 

ep'i-taph (£p'i-t&f), inscription on a 

e-quip' (fc-kwip'), furnish or fit out. 

eq^ui-ty (gk'wi-ti), fairness, im- 
partial justice. 

e'ra (6'ri), a period of time. 

e-rad'i-cate «-rad'I-kat), destroy ut- 
terly. . . 

Erze'roum' (^rz'rffom/), the princi- 
pal city of Turkish Armenia. 

Esk (esk), a river in Scotland flow- 
ing into the Solway Firth. 

es-pouse' (£s-pouz'), make one's own; 

es-say' (2-sa'), try, p. 224. 

es'sence (£s'£ns). substance. 

es-sen ' tial (e-sen ' sh^) , indispensably 

es-tate' (Is-tat'), possession: wealth. 

es-tranged' («s-tranjd'), indifferent. 

e-ter'nal (i-tur'nil), endless; per- 

Eternal City. Rome. 

e'ther (e'tnSr), an extremely fine 
fluid, lighter than air, supposed to 
pervade all space beyond the atmos- 
phere of the earth. 

e-the ' re-al (4-the ' rfc-al) , spiritlike ; 

Evan C^'vin). See p. 79. 

E-van'ge-line (i-vin'jMSn), the gen- 
tle Acadian maiden, and subject of 
the poem. 

e-van'gel-ists (^-vin'jgl-istz), writers 
of the gospels. 

e-vince' (e-vins'), show clearly. 

cwe^ necked ' (u/ nekt ' ), having a thm, 
hollow neck. 

ex-cess' (€k-s«s'), that which exceeds 
the ordinary limit, extravagance. 

cz-clu'sive (gks-kl<5&'s!v), shutting out 

cx'e-cra'tion (6k's*-kra'shiin), a curs- 

ez'e-cu/tion (Sk's^-ku^shiin), carry- 
ing to effect. 

ez-ec'u-tive (£g-z£k'ii-tXv), a chief 
magistrate or officer who adminis- 
ters the government; the governing 

ez-empt' (I5g-zfcmpt'), free. 

ez-er ' tion ( Ig-zur ' shun) , effort. 

ez-haust'ed (£g-z6s'tjki), tired out, 

•z'it (ik'sit), departure of a player 
from the stage after performing his 

ez-panse' (ISks-p&ns'), extent, a con- 
tinuous area. 

ez'pe-di'tion (£ks'p£-d!sh/iin), excur- 
sion, voyage. 

ex-pert' («ks-pikrt'), skillful. 

ex-pire' (€k-st)ir'), die. 

ex-pli ' cit C£ks-pl!s ' it) , distinctly 
stated, clear. 

ez-poB ' tu-la' tion, (Sks-p5s ' tdl-la^ shun), 
earnest reasoning or remonstrance. 

ez^ress' (£ks-pres'), exact, clear, p. 

ez-te'ri-or (cks-te'ri-cr), outside. 

ez-ter ' mi-nate (eks-tur '^ml-nat) , drive 
awav, root out. 

ex-ter'nal (eks-tur 'nal), outside, for- 

ex 'tract (iks'trakt), a selection; short 
part of a book or writing. 

ez-trav'a-gance (eks-tr&v'a-gins), want 
of moderation, lavishness. 

ez-trem'i-ty (eks-tr«m'J-ti), greatest 

ez'tri-cate (6ks'tri-kat), free. 

ez-uit' (eg-ziilt'), be in high spirits; 

fac'ile (fis'fl), ready. 

iac'ul-ty (fak'iil-ti), mental power. 

fain (fan), willingly. 

far low (far 6), land plowed but not 

Fan'eml Hall (f&n"l), a building in 
Boston, Massachusetts, where Revo- 
lutionary orators ^ frequently ad- 
dressed public meetings. 

fan-tas ' tic (f &n-tis ' tik) , grotesque ; 

"fatal sisters," this refers to the three 
Fates of Greek mythology, **spin- 
ners of the thread of life." The tost, 
Clotho, spins the thread of life, 
the second, Lachesis, determines its 
length, and the third, Atropos, cuts 
it. The Greek Fates have their 
counterpart in the Norse Noms. 

Fa'ta Mor-ga'na (fa'ta mor-ga'na), a 
mirage at^ sea. The spectator on 
shore sees images of men, houses, and 
ships, sometimes on the sea; so- 
called because formerly regarded as 
the work of a fairy of this name. 

Father of Waters, a fanciful name given 
b3r the Indians to the Mississippi 

fath'om (fith'&n), find the deptii 



of; measure of length containing six 

|a-tigue' (fa-teg'), weariness from 
labor or exertion. 

Fed'er-al (fjkl'er-&l), a friend of the 
Constitution of the United States at 
its adoption. 

feign (fan), pretend. 

feint (fant), pretense. 

Pe-li'cian, Father (f^-llsh'&n), p. 201. 

fe-lic'i-ty (f«-Us'I-tI). happiness. 

fell (f€l). a rocky hill. 

fel'loe (f^rs), the outside nm of a 
wheel supported by the spokes. 

fel'on (fcrun), one guilty of a crime. 

Fen 'wick (fen'wlk), a Scotch family. 

Fer'oc (f«r'6), a group of islands m 
the North Sea between the Shct- 
lands and Iceland. 

fer'vent-ly (fur'v&t-ll), earnestly. 

fes-toons' (f€s-t66nr'), green vines or 
leaves hanging in a curve, garlands. 

f entered (f«t'€rd), bound. 

feu'dal (fu'dil). the feudal ystem. by 
which the holding of land depended 
upon rendering military service to the 
king or feudal lord during the Mid- 
dle Ages. 

filch (frich), steal. 

fil'ial (fil'y&l), dutiful as a chUd to 
his parent. 

film (film), a thin, slight covering. 

fi-nance' (n-n&ns'), public money. 

"finny herd," a school of fish. 

fir'ma-ment (fur 'ma-mint), heavens. 

"fishing smack," a small sloop-rigged 
vessel used for fishing along the 

flag-bird, a poetic word for standard. 

flag 'on (fl&g'un), a vessel with a nar- 
row mouth for holding liquor. 

flail (flal), a wooden instrument for 
threshing out grain by hand. 

"flame pen ' nons," (flam-p€n ' un) , 
swallow-tailed flags. 

flank (fl&nk), the side of an animal, 
between the ribs and hip. 

flaunt (flant), display with pride or in 
a showy manner. 

Flem'ish (flfim'ish), pertaining to 
Flanders, one of the provinces of 
Belgium. A favorite subject of 
Flemish painters was the family 

group around the fireside, 
iim'en (flim'*n). p. 174. ^ 

Film _. ,_ ,. r- 

floun ' der-ing (floun ' d€r-Ing) , tossing 
and tumbling. 

flur'ry (fliir'i), hurry. 

flux (fluks), the setting in of the tide 
toward the shore. 

fond 'ling (fdnd'ling), caressing. 

Fon-taine'qui-bout (;f5n-tan'ke-bd&), p. 

Foolish Virgins, this refers to the par- 
able of the Ten Virgins, Matthew 
25; 1-13. 

fools 'cap (f(5&lz'k&p), long folio writ- 
ing paper named from its water- 
mark, the fool's cap and bells. 

ford (ffird), a place where water may 

be crossed on foot by wading, 
fore-bode^ (fdr-b6d'), foretell despond- 

for 'felt (for' fit), lose the right to a 

thin^ by some error or crime. 
for'mi-da-ble (fdr'mi-d4-b'l), alarming, 

For'sters (for'stSrz), a Scotch family. 
Fortunate Isles, imaginary isles where 

the souls of the good are made 

fos'ter (fds'tSr), encourage; support, 
fouled (fould), entangled, 
fowl'er (fou>'Sr), one who hunts wild 

frag'ile (fr&j'H), frail, weak. 
Franks, a Germanic people on the 

Rhine river, who afterward founded 

the French monarchy, 
fra-ter'nal (fri-tur'n&l), brotherly 
fraught (frot), mixed, 
fren^sied (frin'zfd), furious, wild, 
fre-quent' (fr4-kw4nt'), visit often, 
fret/ work' (fr*t' wurk' ), ornamental 

raised work, as carving, 
frig 'ate (frig 'Ate), formerly a warship. 
Prois'aart (froi'sart), a celebrated 

French chronicler who wrote a his- 
tory of the fourteenth century. 
fron'tier (frdn'tcr), the boundary or 

limits of a country, 
fru'gal (fr66'gftl), thrifty, 
fudge (fuj). nonsense, 
"funeral pile," a pile of wood upon 

which the dead are burned, 
fu-ne're-al (fdl-nfi'r^-ftl). mournful, 
fur 'rows (ffir'dz), wrinkles, 
fus'tian (ffis'chftn). See note p. 108. 
fu-tu'ri-ty (fA-tfl'ri-tl), time to come. 

Ga'bri-el La-jeun-esae' (ga'brl-£l la- 
zhii-n€s'), p. 201. 

Gal'i-lee (^kvUi), a lake in the north- 
ern province of Palestine. 

gall (gol). chafe, annoy. 

gal-lant' (g&-lint'), a man attentive to 
ladies. On p. 91 pronounced 
gal'lant on account of meter. 

gal'liard (g&l'yard). Note, p. 93. 

gal 'li-gas /kins (g&l'i-gis/kinz), loose 
hose; leather leg ^ards. 

gal 'lows (g&l'dz), gmlty, ready to be 

Gam'bi-a (gllm'bI-&). an English col- 
ony in western Africa along the 
river Gambia. "The chief of Gam- 
bia's golden shore" is a line in a 
school book, "The American Pre- 
ceptor," which was used ^hen Whit- 
tier was a boy. 

gam'bol (g&m'bdl), a sportive prank; 

gam'brel-roofed (g&m'brSl), a curved 

gap'ing (gap'ing). yawning. 

gar'ru-lous (gllr'oo-lus), wordy; chat- 

Gas-per-eau' (g4s-pSr-d'), a river la 



King's county. Nova Scotia, flowing 
into the Basin of Minas. 

Gates of Her'cu-les (hur'kii-lez), the 
Strait of Gibraltar. 

gauge (gaj), estimate; a measure. 

gaug'er (gaj'Sr), an officer, whose 
business it is to find the contents of 

gaunt 'let (gant'lit), a long glove cov> 
ering the wrist. 

ge'ni-al (je'ni-il; jin'yiil), cheerful, 

ge'nie (je'nl), a good or evil spirit. 
PI. genii. 

gen'ius (jen'yfis), one who has high 
mental powers. 

Gen 'tile (jin'til), one who is not a 

ge ' o-met/ ric 06 ' A-mit/ rik) , refer- 
ring to the figures used in geom- 
etry, the branch of mathematics 
which treats of the measurement of 
lines, angles, surfaces, and solids. 

Geor'gius Secun'dus (jor'jOs s£k-und' 
iis), George the Second, king of 
Great Britain. 

ger'mi-nate (jur'ml-nit), bud, sprout. 

ges'ture (jj^s'tiir), a movement of th^ 
face, body, or limbs to express ideas. 

Ghent (g£nt), capital of province of 
east Flanders, Belgium. 

ghoul (gool), an oriental demon, sup- 
posed to feed upon dead human 
bodies. On p. 60 pronounced gdl 
on account ot rhyme. 

gi-gan'tie (ji-g&n-tik), large. 

gill (gil), a deep narrow valley through 
which a river flows. 

glade (gl&d), a cleared spaca in a 

glad/i-a'tor (gl&d/l-&'ter), in ancient 
Rome a swordsman who fought in 
the arena with other men or am- 

glebe (glib), turf, sod. , 

gleed (gled), a burning coal. 

gloam'ing (gldm'ing), twilight. 

gloat (glot), stare or gaze earnestly 
often with a feeling of cruelty. 

Glynn (gUn), a county in southeastern 
Georgia. , , . 

goad (god), a pomted instrument to 
urge on a beast. 

gor'geous (gor'jiis), showy, magnifi- 

gor'y (gfir'I), bloody. 

gowd (g5d: gSbd), the Scotch name 
for gold. 

Graemes (grimz), the name of a 
Scotch clan, sometimes spelled 
Graham. . . , 

gram 'pus (grSm'piis). a large toothed 
fish, valued for its oil. 

gran'a-ry (gr&n'4-rl), a storehouse for 

gran'deur (gr&n'diir), majesty, lofti- 

Grand Pre' (gran-pri'), a village in 
King's county, Nova Scotia. The 
wor^ means ^'great meadow.** 

grap'ple (grSp'*!), «e!«e. 

grave (grftv), cut letters or figures 00 
a hard substance with a chiseL 

gray 'ling (gr&y'ling), a fish somewhat 
like a trout. 

Great Harry, the name of a ship. 

gren'a-dier/ (grj^n'4-der/), in olden 
times a soloier armed with gren- 
ades, iron shells filled with powder 
and thrown amon^ the enemy. The 
word is now applied to a member of 
the Grenadier Guards. 

Greve (grav). Note, p. 43. 

grew 'some Cgr(55'sum), frightful. 

groat (grot), an old Engfish silver 
coin worth four pence. 

groin (groin), bring together in a 

guar'an-tv (g&r'&n-tl), security. 

guid (gud). Wote, p. 9a 

guln'ea stamp (gin^i), the mark or 
impress upon a guinea — an old Eng- 
lish coin worth about five dollars. 

guise (giz), shape; cloak. 

gun 'da-low (gun'di-ld), another form 
for gondola (gdn'dd-U). 

gy'ra-to-ry (ji'ri-td-ri), winding, 
whirling around a central point. 

Hab'ar-aham (h&b'€r-shim). a county 
in northeast Georgia. The Chatta- 
hoochee rises in this county. 

hab'it (h&b'It), a garment, p. 101; be- 
havior, p. 148. 

Ha'gar (h&'g4r). See (SenesU 21. 14- 

hake-broil (hik-broil), a seafish like 
the cod, cooked over a beach fire. 

HaU-liooiu name of a boat on which 
Henry Hudson entered New York 
bay and explored the Hudson river. 

Hall, a county in northern Georgia 
intersected by the Chattahoochee 

hal-k>o' (h&-l<5&'), call 

hal'low (hil'd), consecrate, make holy. 

Hampton Falls (h&mp't&i), a town 
in Rockingham county. New Hamp- 
shire, seven miles north of New- 
buryport. Massachusetts. 

hap 'less (n&p'lis), unfortunate. 

Haps 'burg (h&ps'burg), a princely 
(German family to which Maria 
Louise, wife of Napoleon, belonged. 

ha-rangue' (ha-r&ng'), an address or 
speech to a crowd. 

har'bin-ger (har'bln-jer), a forerunner; 
usher in. 

ha 'rem (h&'rSm), a family of wives be- 
longing to one man. 

har'py (har'pl), one of tiie three 
daup:hters of Neptune and Terra. 
havmg a woman*s face and body and 
sharp claws like a vulture; a buz- 

Has'selt (has' Sit), a town in Belnum. 

haunch (hanch), the hip, part of Dody 
between the ribs and thigh. 



R«'irer-Mll (hS'vcr-n). city in Essex 
county, Massachusetts. 

hax'ard (h&z'4rd), chance; danger, 

heath 'er ^h£th'£r), a small, evergreen 
flowering shrub with rose>coIored 
flowers native to Scotland and north- 
em Europe. 

heave, (hev), force from the breast, as 

Heb'n^et (h«b'r!-dSz), islands off the 
western coast of Scotland. 

Heri-con (hiri-kdn), a famous moun- 
tain in Greece. 

Uel-seg'gen (h€l-s«g"n), p. 173. 

hel'ter-skerter (hfrter-skerter), in 
hurry and confusion. 

hen-pecked' (h*n'p4kt'), governed by 
one's wife. 

her 'aid (hir'Hld), usher in; announce. 

herb 'age (ur'biij; hur'bij), grass, 

he-red ' i-ta-ry (h*-r8d ' I-t4-rl) , passing 
from an ancestor to a descendant. 

Her'mes (hur'mez), an ancient Egyp- 
tian wiseman, "the scribe of the 
gods," who interpreted the truth of 
the gods to the people. In Greek 
mythology, the messenger of the 

her'mit (hur'mft), one vho has re- 
tired from society and lives in 

hem (h«rn). short form for heron, a 
water bira. 

Rer-ve' Ri-el/ (hur-vft' r€-«l'), p. 8a 

hi-la'ri-ous (hi-U'ri-fis), noisy; merry. 

hilt (hilt), the handle of a sword. 

Hin' do-Stan (hin'ddb-stan), the cen- 
tral peninsula of Asia. 

hoar'y (hdr*i), gray with age. 

Ho'ey-holm (ho^a-hom), p. 174. 

Hogue (hdg). See note, p. 43. 

hold (hold), a castle, stronghold. 

hol'las (ho'loz). calls out. 

hol'ster (hol'ster), a horseman's case 
for a pistol. 

Ho'ly Grail (ho 'If grSl), the cup or 
bowl from which Chnst drank at 
the Last Supper. 

Holy Supper, Christ's last supper with 
His disciples. 

horde (hdrd), a wandering tribe; a 
vast multitude. 

hos ' pi-tal/ i-tv (h5s ' p!-t&l/ f^tl) , the 
practice of entertaining friends and 

strangers with kindness, 
ios'tage (hds'tij), a pers< 

hos'tage (hds'tij), a person who re- 
mains in the hands of another for 
the fulfilment of certain conditions; 

hous'ings (houz'Tngz), pi. trappings; 
a cover for a horse's saddle. 

hov'er (hi!iv'€r), hang fluttering in the 

Hud-dup' (hfl-dup'). a New England 
interjection addressed to a horse 
meaning "Get along.** 

hue (hu), color; "hue and cry," a 

loud outcry with which thieves were 
anciently pursued. 

Hu'gue-not (hu'g{-n5t), a French 
Protestant of the sixteenth century. 

hur'ry-skur'ry (hfir'ri-skfir'rl), con- 
fused bustle. 

hus' band-man (hfiz'b&nd-m&n), a til- 
ler of the soil, a farmer. 

Hy'dra (hi'dr4), in classical mythol- 
ology, the water serpent with nine 
heads slain by Hercules: each head, 
on being cut off, became two. 

Hy'me-ne/al (hl'm£-ne/ftl), referring 
to marriage; from Hymen, the Greek 
god of marriage. 

hy-ppth'e-tis (hl-pdth'^-sls), some- 
thing not proved, but taken for 
granted for tne purpose of argument. 

hys'sop (hfs'fip), a fragrant plant 
whose leaves have a strong taste. 

I'bra-him (e'bra-him), the Arabic for 

i-de'al (i-d£'al)^ an imaginary stand- 
ard of perfection; faultless. 

i-den'ti-ty (i-din'ti-ti), sameness, the 

being the same. 
"I dew vum,** a mild New England 
oath, "I do vow.** 

i-dyl (i-dfl), a short poem describing 
country life. 

If-le'sen (ef-la'sen), p. 174. 

ig-no'ble (Ig-no'b'l), not noble, low. 

ig'no-min-y (fg'nd-mln-I), dishonor. 

ll'lah (e'la), the Arabic for "the 
God." "La illah ilia Allah" means 
"Allah is the God." 

ill-con-cert 'ed (n-k5n-siir't£d), poorly 
planned and executed. 

il-Iim'it-a-ble (Mim'it-4-b*l), vast, im- 

il-lu'mi-nate (Mfl'ml-nat), brighten 
with light. 

il-lu'sion (i-lii'zhfin), an unrealitv. 

im-bibe' (im-bib'), receive, absorb. 

im-bue' (Im-bfi'), tinge deeply. 

im ' me^mo ' ri-al (Im ' t-mb^ r i-&i ) , ex- 
tending beyond reach of memory or 

im-mor'tal (f-mor'tSl), lasting forever. 

im-mu ' ta-ble (i-m& ' t4-b'l) , unchange- 

im-pede' (Im-pSd'), hinder. 

im-ped'i-ment (Im-pj^'i-mSnt), hin- 

im-pel' Clm-pSl'), urge on, drive. 

im-pend'ing (Im-pCnd'fng), overhang- 
ing, threatening. 

im-pen'e-tra-ble (lm-p€n'^-tr4-b*l), can- 
not be entered. 

im ' per-cep^ ti-ble (Im ' p5r-s4p' tl-b*l), 
not easily seen or noticed. 

im-pe ' ri-ous (im-pS ' ri-iis) , haughty, 

im-pet'u-ous (Im-pSt'ii-iis), rushing 
violently ; hasty. 

im-pla'ca-ble (im-pla'k4-b'l), not to be 
pacified ; unforgiving. 

im ' port-tun e^ (im ' por-tun^ ) , urge 



im'po-ti/tion (lm'p6-zlsh/fin), deceit; 

im-pos'ture (!m-p58't<ir), cheat; trick. 

im^pre-ca/tion (Im'pr^-kft/shiin), a 
curse; an evil wish. 

im' pulse (Im'piils), a mental force di- 
rectly urging to action. 

im-pu'ni'ty (fm-pu'nl-tl), freedom 
from punishment or inlury. 

in-an'i-mate (In-lin'!-m&t\ without life. 

in'ar-tsc/u-late (!n'ar-t!k/ii-14t), with- 
out voice, indistinct. 

in ' can;t«/ tion (In ' k&n-ta^ shiin) , a 
magical charm said or sung. 

in-ces'sant, (In-s^s'&nt), continuing 
without interruption. 

in'ci-dent (In'sl-dint). event 

incident to, in connection with. 

in-clem ' ent (in-kl£m ' £nt) , severe ; 

in-com'pe-tent (ln-kdm'p£-t£nt). unfit; 

ia-com ' pre-hen' si-ble (In-kdm ' pr^-h&i/ 
si-b'I), cannot be understood. 

in-con ' gru-ous ( In-kdn ' gr^-fis) , un- 
suitable, unfit. 

in-cred'i-ble (In-kred'i-b'l), hard to 

in-cul'cate (!n-kiirk&t), teach; instill. 

Ind (!nd), short form for India. 

in ' de-fin/ a-ble (In ' d£-fin/ 4-b'l) , can- 
not be described. 

in'de-pend^ent (In'd*-p«n/d*nt), free; 

in ' dis-creet^ (In ' dls-kr€t/ ) , foolish. 

in ' dis-pen/ sa-ble (In ' dls-p^n/ si-bU) , 
absolutelv necessary. 

in-duced' (In-dust')> caused, lead into. 

in-dul'gence (In-dOrjens), a favor 

in-ev'i-ta-ble (In-«v'I-ta-b'l), certain, 

in ' ex-haust/ i-ble (In ' ^g-zds/ tl-b*l) , 

cannot be emptied; unfailing. 

in'fi-del (In'fl-del), an unbeliever. 

in ' fi-nite (In ' fi-nit ) , immeasurable, 

rac'tion (In-frlik' shiin), a breaking, 
especially of the law. 

in-fuse' (in-fuz'), pour into, shed. 

in-gre'di-ent (In-grS'di-Snt), a part of 
a mixture. 

in-hale' (In-hal'), draw into the lungs. 

in-her'ent (In-her'int), inborn, natural. 

in ' no-va' tion (In ' d-vS' shun) , some- 
thing new or contrary to custom. 

in-nu'mer-a-ble (I-nu'm€r-4-b*l), can- 
not be numbered. 

in-scru'ta-ble (In-skr55't4-Vl), not 
able to be understood. 

in-sid'i-ou8 (In-sid'I-tis), sly, deceit- 

in ' so-lence (In ' sd-lins) , impudence. 

in-spire' (in-spir'). to fill with hope. 

in 'stance (In'st&ns). See note, p. 101. 

in-stiir (In-stir), bring to mind, p. 

in/ su-lat ' ed (In' sii-lat ' ed) , separated. 

in-su'per-a-ble (In-su'per-a-b'l), can- 
not be overcome. 

in ' sur-mottnt/ a-ble (In ' s&r-moun/ 1&- 

b'l), impassable. 
in-Uct' (in-tikf), untouched; whole, 
in-teg'ri-ty (In-t*g'rl-tl), honesty, 
in-terli-gence (In-t£r!-j€ns), news, p. 

in'ter-course (In'tSr-kdrs), interchange 

of thought and feeling: trade, 
in-ter'mi-na-bly (In-tiir'ml-nA-bH), end- 
in-ter'nal (In-tur'n41), inland; inside, 
in'ter-pose/ (In-t«r-p6z/ ), place be- 

in-ter'pret (In-tur'pr«t), tell the mean- 

mg of. 
in'ter-rog/a-to-ry (In't€-r6g/a-t6-ri), a 

in'tcr-val (In't€r-v41), a space of time 

between any two events. 
in'ter-view (In't«r-vfl), a meeting face 

to face, 
in-torer-able (In-tdl'gr-i-b'l), not ca- 
pable of being endured, 
in'tri-cate (In'trl-kAt), entangled, 
in-trigue' (In-trCg'), a plot or con- 
in-trud'er (In-trfiSd'gr), one who en- 
ters without invitation, 
in'im-date (In'dn-dat), cover with a 

in-ured' (In-urd'), accustomed, 
in-vade' (In-vad'). enter for conquest 

or plunder. 
in-va'^ri-a-Uy (In-va'rI-4-blI), con- 
in'ven-to-rv (In'v*n-td-rl), catalog[ue 
or list of goods, furniture, etc., with 
cost attached, 
in-vig'or-ate (In-vlg'6r-at), refresh, 

give life to. 
in-vin'ci-ble (In-vln'sl-b'l),, not able 

to be overcome or conquered, 
in-vi ' o-late (In-vi ' d-14t) , uninjured, 
in-vorun-tar-i-ly (In-vdrun-tA-ri-H), not 
under control of the will ; unwillingly, 
i-ras'ci-ble (i-ris'I-b'l; i-r4s'), easily 

ire (!r), anjgfer. 
i'rised (i'rlst), having beautiful colors. 

like the rainbow, 
irk 'some (urk'stim), tedious, tiresome, 
ir-ra ' tion-al (I-r4sh ' iin-41) , without 

Ish'ma-el (Ish'mA-Sl), Genesis 21.14- 

"Islands of the Blest," mythical islands 
supposed to be in the Western Ocean 
where the favorites of the gods were 
conveyed at death and dwelt in ever- 
lasting joy. 
Is 'ling-ton (Iz'llng-tiin), a district in 

the north of London. 
Is'ra-el (Iz'r4-Sl), the descendants of 

Israel, or Jacob. 
"I wis'** (l-wls'), surely, certainly. 

jack/a-napes', a short form of "Jack 
of Apes," an impertinent fellow. 

Jacob's Ladder (ja'kiib), Cicnesis 28, 



jad'cd (iad'«d), tired by overwork. 

jar'gon (jar'gon), a confused, unintel- 
ligible language. 

jer'kin (jur^kin), a jacket or short 

Je-ru'sa-lem (j^-roo'sa-lem), the cap- 
ital of the Jewish people. 

Jcs'u-it (j€z'fi-It), one of a Roman 
Catholic religious order called The 
Society of Jesus," founded by Igna- 
tius Loyola in 1543. , . 

Jo'ab (jo'Sb), the "captain of the 
host" of the army during nearly the 
whole of David's reign. 

joc'und (jok'flnd), merry, gay. . 

Johns Hopkins University, a univer- 
sity in Baltimore, Mainland. 

Jor'is (jor'is), the Flemish word for 

jour^nafS's/ tic (jur'nal-Xs'tJk). refer- 
ring to" journalism, newspaper, or 
magazine articles. , 

Jove (jov), the short form for Jupiter. 

Jo'vi-ai (j6'v!-il). merry, jolly. 

Ju-gur'tha (j6o-gur'th4). See p..m 

jun'to (jun t6), a secret council to 
talk over affairs of government. 

Ju'pi-ter (j5a'pl-t2r), m Roman my- 
thology, the supreme god of heaven. 
In Greek mythology, known as Zeus. 

jus'ti-fi-ca'tion (jiis^tJ-fl-ka/shun), de- 
fense; support by proof. 

Kaats'kill (k&ts'kll). a group of 
mountains of the Appalachian sys- 
tem in New York state, , ^ 

Ka'le-va'la (ka'la-va/la). "The land 
of heroes," the title of the national 
epic of Finland. 

keel (kcl), the lowest timber of a 
vessel, to which the ribs are attached. 

keel 'son (kgl'siin), a beam laid on the 
middle of the floor timbers over the 
keel to strengthen it. 

kelp (k*lp), a larM, coarse seaweed. 

ken (k«n), knowledge. . 

khan (kan; k&n), an Asiatic prince; 
an Eastern inn. 

Kield'holm (keld'hSm), p. 174. 

kine (km), cattle. 

King Arthur, a mythical British king, 
founder of the Knights of the Round 
Table, made famous in Tennyson s 
"Idylls of the King," 

kins 'man (kTnz'm&n), a relative. 

kir'tle (kur't'l), a garment. 

"kith and kin," friends and relatives. 

knarred (nard), the poetic form of 
gnarled, knotted. , , , ^ « - 

Kmck/ er-bock ' er Die ' tnch (nik' er- 
b6k'€r dfi'trik), p. 113._^, 

knoll (n6l), a little, round hill. 

Koor'dis-tan (koor'dJ-stan), a region 
of western Asia, mostly in Turkey, 
but partly in Persia. 

Kur'ro-glou (koor'o-glou), p. 19. 

Ky'rat (kg 'rat), p. 19. 

lack/Ius'tre (lak'lus'te-), wanting 

lade (lad), draw water; put load on 
or in. 

lad'ing (lad'Ing), that which makes a 
load or cargo. 

lag'gard (ISg^ird), a slow person. 

la-goon' (la-g^n'), a shallow chan- 
nel or lake. 

lam'en-ta-bly (iam'«n-ti-bH), sadly. 

lance (Uns), a long spear carried by 
a horseman. 

lan'guor (lin'gSr), a state of mind or 
body caused by exhaustion, weari- 

Lanier', Sydney (ia-n«r'), p. 316. 

Lannes (Un), one of Napoleon's gen- 

lapse (laps), a passing away slowly. 

lar' board (lar'bord), the left-hand side 
of a ship to one oi^ board facing 
the bow, port. 

Las 'car (las'kar), a native sailor or 
cooly of India. 

lash'ing (lash'fng), cord; strike 
quickly or cut. 

La 'tin (lat'fn) Latium, a country of 
Italy in which Rome was situated, 
hence Roman, the language of the 
ancient Romans. 

lat'ticed window (lat'Ist), crossed 
open work of wood or metal, form- 
ing a window. 

lau' re-ate (lo'r^-ftt), the English court 

lau'rel (lo'rSl), an evergreen shrub 
having sweet-smelling leaves. 

Lau'rens (16'rins), the name of an 
old southern family. John and 
Henry Laurens are famous states- 
men of Revolutionary times. 

lav'ing (lav'ing), bathing. 

lav'ish (lav'lsh), extravagant. 

lay (la), song. 

lea (le), a grassy field. 

league (leg), a measure of distance 
equal to about three miles. 

lea'euer (le'g€r), a camp. 

Leb a-non (lSb'a-n6n), a mountain 
range in Syria. 

"Le Car'il-lon de Dunkerque" (1* 
kar'i-16n-d*-diin'kurk), a pooular 
song, the tune of which was played 
on the Dunkirk chimes. 

ledg'er (l€j'cr), the principal account 
book of a business firm. 

lee (le), the calm, sheltered side. 

leg'a-cy (l€g'4-sl), a gift, by will, of 
money or property. 

leg 'end (Igj'Snd), a wonderful story of 
the past having no historical proof. 

leg'i-bly (16j'I-blI). plainly 

Len'tu-lus (16n'tA-His), a Roman poli- 
tician who lived in the first century^ 
B. C. 

lep'cr (lep'€r), one afflicted with lep- 

lep'ro-sy (lSp'r6-sO, a loathsome skin 

Le-tiche' (la-tesh'). See p. 207. 

Leuc'tra (luk'tra), a Spartan pass. 



lev'ee (\iv*i), a morning reception 
held by a person of rank. 

le-vi'a-than (U-vi'4-th&n), a large wa- 
ter animal described in the Book of 
Job, hence anything huge. 

Icv'y (liv'i), collect troops by author- 

lib'er-al (lib'Sr-ftl), wide, spacious. 

li-cen'tious (U-sSn'shiis), unrestrained, 
both morally and legally. 

lieu-ten 'ant UMin'&nt), an officer 
ranking just below a captain in the 
army and a commander in the navy. 

Lil/i-nau' (III' Too*), p, 240, 

lim'ner UTm'ner), a painter who il- 
lumines books or parchments. 

linch/pin' (Etnch^' pTn'h the pin which 
goes through the end of the axle 
of a wheel and keeps it in place. 

lin'e-age {lin'^M), family. 

lin' en-drap ' er C lin ' en- dri 'per), one 
who deak in linen. 

list (list), will, pK n. an enclosing for 
a tournament. 

Ust'less-ly (Ust'les-U), in an indiffer- 
ent manner. 

lit'er-a-ture (Ht'2r-4-tAr). the written 
or printed literary productions of a 
country or period of time. 

lithe (lith), easily bent, pliable. 

liv'er-y (Hy'€r-1)^ a uniform. 

loath (Idth), unwilling. 

lo'cal (Id'k&l), belonging to a partic- 
ular place. 

Lo-chier (Idk-eD. See note p. 78. 

Lo-dore' (Id-ddr'), a cataract in the 
Derwent riyer in England. 

Lo-fo'den (ld-f6'd*n), a group of 
islands off the coast of northern 

log'i-cal (loj'I-kil), according to rea- 

Lo'ker-en (ld'k£r-£n), a town in Bel- 

loon (155n), a northern web-footed wa- 
ter bird whose note sounds like a 

loop'mg (l(55p'ln^), fold. 

loose (1(558), unbind. 

Looz (lo&z). a town in Belgium. 

lore (lor), knowledge. 

Loup/-ga'roo' (loo'gi' r55'), mean- 
ing a "Wcre-wolf, a person who, 
according to the superstition of the 
Middle Ages, became a wolf in order 
to devour children. 

Lu'ci-fer (la'sl-fer). See note p. 106. 

lu' mi-nous (lu'm!-nus), giving out 

lure (lur), anything used as an en- 
ticement ; entice. 

lust'y (lus'tl), healthy, vigorous. 

lux-u'ri-ant (luks-u'ri-ant), very abun- 

ly-ce'um (U-si'um), originally the 
grove at Athens where Aristotle 
taught; an academy. 

llael' Strom (mil'strdm), a whirlpool 
on the coast of Norway. 

mag-nan 'i-moui (mig-nin'I-mflt), 

great of mind; heroic. 

mag 'pie (m&g'pi), a chattering bird 
belonging to the crow family. 

main (min), ocean, p. 48. 

liai'note (nd'ndt), Maina was the 
gathering place for the Greek troops 
who, under the Greek general, Ypsi- 
lanti, fought for Greek independence. 

main/ top' (mln/t5p'), a platform at 
the head of the main-mast of a 
square-rigged vessel. 

mal ice (mil 'is), wicked intention to 
injure others. 

mal^le-a-ble (m&l'^-4-b'l), capable of 
being shaped by beating or by 

mal'low (mM'd), a weed. 

Ha'lo (ma'ld), see p. 43. 

lial'o-uins (mal'd-wlns), see p. 43. 

lial'U (morti), a rocky fortified 
island belonging to Great Britain, 
and situated in the Mediterranean 
Sea south of Sicily. 

man'a-cles (min'i-k'lz), chains for 
the hand or wrist. 

man 'date (m&n'd&t), command. 

man'i-fest (mftn'i-fist), known. 

man ' i-fet-U^ tion (min ' !-f is-ta/ shun) , 

man^i-fold (mftn'I-fold), many in num- 

ma-noeu'vre (m&-nd5'vSr), a skillful 
movement with a certain aim or 

man 'or (m&n'2r), a district over 
which a feudal lord ruled subject 
to the commands of his court-baron 
or lord. 

"mantling blush," color or glow of 
youth spreading over the face. 

man'u-al (m&n'ft-&l), made or per- 
formed by the hand. 

liar'a-thon (m&r'&-thdn), a plain in 
Greece 18 miles northeast of Athens, 
the scene of a famous battle be- 
tween the Greeks and the Persians. 

ma-raud'ers (mi-rod '€rz), rovers in 
search of plunder. 

Mare Ten'e-bra'rum (mar t&i'*-bra'- 
rtim), Latin words meaning "sea of 

marge (marj), poetic form for mar- 
gin or edg^. 

liar'i-on (mlr'!-dn), the name of an 
old southern family, to which Fran- 
cis Marion, a Revolutionary general, 

Mar'mi-on (mar'mT-6n). See p. 95. 

mar 'quia (mar'kwis), a nobleman of 
England, France, and Germany next 
in rank below a duke. 

mar'shal (mar'shil), direct or lead; 
in, the French army, the highest 
military officer. 

mart (mart), short form for market. 

mar'tial (mar'shil). suited for war. 

mar'veled (mar'v€ld), to be aston- 

ma-ter ' nal ( mi-tur ' nil) , motherly. 


nath'e-raat/ i-cal (m&th'^-m&t/ i-kil), 

mat 'in (mat'!n), morning^ worship, 
prayers or songs. 

liat'ter-hom (mlt'Sr-hom), a high 
mountain peak in the Swiss Alps. 

maz'im (mik'sim), a true saying, 

McGreg'or (m&k-gr£g'£r), a Scotch 
nobleman who tried to establish a 
colony in Porto Rico. 

mea'ger (mfi'gcr), scanty, poor. 

liech^eln (mik'lin), a town in Bel- 

lied 'ford (mid'fSrd), a small town 
near Boston, Massachusetts. 

me-di-ae/val (mi'di-e/v&l; m«d'I). be- 
longing to the Middle Ages, eighth 
to fifteenth centuries, A. IJ. 

med'i-tate (mj^d'i-tat), muse or pon- 

me'di-um (mS'dX-iim), substance. 

meet (met), fit. 

meran-cho-ly (m£r&n-kdl-T), gloomy. 

lleri-ta (m£ri-ta), an island, where 
the apostle Paul, a prisoner on the 
way to Rome, was shipwrecked, 
modem Malta. 

meriow (merd), softened by years; 

me-men'to (m£-m6n't5), a hint or 
relic to awaken memory. 

Mem ' phre-ma^ gog (mem 'Jr^-m&z g5g), 
a lake on the border of Vermont 
and Canada. 

men 'ace (mSn'4s), threaten, danger. 

mcn'di-cant (m£n'dX-k&nt), practicing, 

Mer'sey (mur'zl), a river in England, 
on wnich Liverpool is situated. 

met * A'tnoT^ phose (m£t ' a-mor^ foz) , 

change into a different form. 

mete (mSt), measure; limit. 

me-thinka' (m£-thinks'), it seems to' 

mewring (muring). See p. 101. 

mick'le (mlk'*l). much, great. 

lli'das (mi 'das), a king, in fable, 
whose touch turned things to gold. 

mien (m£n), outward appearance or 

mi-li'tia (mMIsh'a), the whole mili- 
tary force of a nation; citizens en- 
rolled and trained for the protection 
of a state. 

'Mil ' ler, Joa-quin ' (mil ' cr wa-kcn ' ) , 
p. 388. 

MU-ti'a-des (mn-ti'i-dez), com- 
mander of the Athenian army who 
conquered the Persians at Marathon. 

m!-mo sa (mf-md's&). plants with pods 
including the sensitive plants. 

Mi'naa, Basin of (ml-n4s), a bay in 
the northwestern part of the Bay of 
_ Fundy. 

min'i-a-ture (m!n'X-&-tiir), done on a 
very small scale. 

min'ion (mTn'yun), a flattering ser- 
vant or dependent. 

mi-rac ' u-lous ( mi-r&k ' A-lus) , wonder- 

mi-rage' (mt-razh'), an illusion of 
the eye by which objects like ships 
at sea are seen inverted or oases ap- 
pear to travelers in the desert. 

mis-cal ' cu-la' tion (mis-kil ' kA-l&^ - 

shun), a wrong judgment. 

mis 'sal (mis'al), a mass-book. 

mit'i-gate (mit'f-gat), make less se- 
vere or 'painful. 

mit'i-ga/tion (mlt'I-g&^shiin), relief; 

moc'ca-sin (mdk'&-sln), a shoe made 
of soft leather worn by the Amer- 
ican Indian. 

mock'er-y (m5k'er-l), imitating real- 
itv, but not real; sham. 

mode (mod), manner of doing or be- 
ing ; custom. 

Mo 'hawk (mo'hok), a tribe of In- 

mold'er (mdl'd^r), turn into dust by 
natural decay. 

mo'ment (md'm£nt), importance; con- 
sequence, p. 350. 

mon'o-dy (mon'A-dl), a mournful 
poem or song for one voice. 

mon'o-graph (mdn'd-graf), a paper 
written on one particular subject 
or on some branch of it. 

mo-nop'o-ly (md-n6p'd-U), possession 
of the whole of an^hing. 

mon'o-tone (mon'd-ton), a single un- 
varied tone or sound. 

mo-not'o-ny (md-ndt'd-nl), a tiresome 

Mont-calm' (mont-kam'). an officer 
commanding the Frencn troops at 

moor'ings (moor'fngz), the place 
where a vessel is ancnored. 

moor'land (moor'I&nd),*a waste land 
covered with patches of heather, a 
low shrub. 

mor'al-er (m5r'ftl-{r). See p. 108. 

Mo-ra'vi-an (md-ra'vi-&n), one of a 
sect called United Brethren, organ- 
ized in Moravia in the fifteenth 

Mos'koe (mds'kd), p. 174. Probably 
Poe had in mind the Mos'kenaso 

Mos'lem (m5z'lj^m; m5s). See p. 84. 

mo'tive (mo'tXv), the reason for ac- 

mot/ley-braid'ed (mdt/l!-brid'«d), in- 
terlaced with many colors. 

moul'der-ing (m61'dcr-ing), crumbling. 

mul ' ti-tu/ di-nous (ifiiir tX-tu^ di-niis) , 

Muse (mflz)^ the goddess who is sup- 
posed to inspire poets. 

muse (mfiz), think. 

Mus' graves (mus'gr&vz), a clan or 
family of Scotland. 

Mus'sul-mans (mfis'fil-m&nz), Moham- 
medans, p. 186. The "tottering 
bridge which Mussulmans say is 
the only pathway between Time and 



Eternity" is the bridge which ex- 
tends over hell and which has been 
described as being "finer than a hair 
and sharpei than the edge of a 

mus'ter (miis'tSr), the gathering of 
troops or ships for war. 

mu-ta^tion (md-tii'shiin), change. 

mu'ti-ny (mu'tl-nl), a revolt against 
one's superior ofHcers or any right- 
ful authority, especially applied to 
sailors or soldiers. 

mu'tu-al (mu'tA-&l), having something 
in common. 

Mjrs'tic (mXs'tlk), a river in Massa- 

na'iad (n&'viid; ni'&d), a water 
nymph^ fabled to preside over some 
lake, river, brook, or fountain. 

nec^ro-man'cer (n€k'rd-m&n's€r), one 
who foretells future events by pre- 
tending to communicate with the 

nee 'tar (nek'tir), in Greek mythol- 
ogy, the divine wine of the gods 
served in golden drinking-cups by 
Hebe, the goddess of Youth. 

ne-pen'the (n£-p£n'th^), a drug sup- 
posed, by the ancient Greeks, to 
nave the power of causing forget- 
fulness of sorrow. 

Neth'er-by (n«th'cr-bi), the name of 
^ a Scotch family or clan. 

niche (nich), a hollow^ generally with- 
in the thickness of a wall, for a 
statue or other erect ornament. 

night-tide, night-time. 

Nu'us (nil' us), the Latin word for 

"Nine," referring to the nine Muses 
of Greek mythology, goddesses of 
Song, Dance, Music, and Poetry, 
companions of Apollo, who, in their 
light-flowinff draperies, danced and 
san^ on Olympus. 

nine-pins^ (nin'pinz), a game played 
with ninepins or pieces of wood set 
on end at which a wooden ball is 
bowled to knock them down. 

Nin'e-veh (nln'*-vi), the famous cap- 
ital of the Assyrian empire, which 
was entirely destroyed m the fall 
of the empire. 

Nor'man-dy (nor'man-d!), an ancient 
province of France occupied by the 
Northmen or Normans during their 

Norn-Mother (nom), in Norse mythol- . 
ogy, the Norns corresponded to the 
Fates in Greek myths. 

no'ta-ry (nd'ta-rl), a public officer who 
examines legal papers to make cer- 
tain that they are genuine or true 
and sets the seal of his office upon 
the same. 

Nu'bi-an ge-og'ra-pher (nfl'M-Sn j*- 
6g'ra-fcr), Poe, in all probability, 
refers to the African geographer, 
Ptolemy. 150 A. D. 

nurii-fi-ca/tion (nuri-fl-ki/fchun). an 
act giving the State the right to 
cancel a law of Congress. 

Nu-mid'i-an li'on (nA-mid'I-an), the 
fierce animals which attacked the 
gladiators in the arena were brought 
from Numidia, a country in northern 

nur'tured (nAr'tArd), nourished, 

nymph (nimf). a goddess presiding 
over mountains, forests, meadows, or 

o-bei'sance (d-ba'siins; 6-be'), a sign 

of respect; a bow. 
ob'H-ga-to-ry (6b'lI-^4-tA-ri; 6b-lig'- 

4-td-ri), required, binding in law or 

ob-lique'ly (db-lek'H), in a slanting 

ob-liv'i-on (6b-lIv'I-iin), a forgetting 

or being forgotten. 
ob'Io-quy (db'ld-kw!), slander, re- 
ob-se ' qui-ous ( 6b-s6 ' k wl-iis) , profiipt- 

ly obedient to the will of others; 

cb'sU-cle (6b'sti-k*l), a hindran,tfc. 
oc-cult' (6-kiilt'), secret, 
ode (6d), a short poem, which might 

be sung, 
o'dor-ous (6'd6r-us), fragrant, 
of-fence'less (6-finsMSs), harmless. 
o£F'ing (of'Ing), that part of the sea 

where there is deep water and no 

need of a pifot. 
'O-lym'pus (6-lim'piis), a mountain in 

Thessalv, fabled as the home of 

the gods. 
om'i-nouB (dm'I-ntis), forebodinsr evil, 
om-nip'o-tent (6m-nip'd-tcnt), all pow- 
.Op'e-Iou'sas (dp'^-ld&/sas), an early 

settlement in south central Louis- 
op-po'nent (&-pd'nSnt>, foe. 
op-posed' (6-p6zd'), enemy, p. 101. 
op-pres'sive (5-pr*s'iv), heavy, bur- 
o-rac'u-lar (d-rik'ii-Ur), like oracles 

or answers of the gods to questions 

about future events. 
orb (orb), a poetical word for sun, 

moon, or star. 
Or'e-gon (6r'*-g6n), a name by 

which the Columbia river was first. 

Or'mus (or 'mils), an ancient Persian 

city, noted for its wealth. 
O-therio (d-thel'd), a Moorish jgren- 

eral in the service of the Venetians. 
Ot'ter-hoUn (6t'er-h6m), p. 174. 
o'ver-ture (5'ver-t6r), an offer p. 325. 
O-wy'hee (d-wi'h*), a river in 

northern Nevada. 

pae'an (p€'&n), a song of triumph, 
pag'cant (p&j'j^nt; p&'jent), spectacu- 
far exhibition or display. 



pal'imp-ieit (pU'lmp-sSst), a parch- 
ment written upon twice, the first 
writina^ having been erased. 

pall (poI), a black cloth thrown over 
a coffin at a funeral. 

pal-la 'di-um (pi-la' di-iim), the statue 
of Pallas, on the preservation of 
• which depended the safety of Troy, 
hence an effectual safeguard. 

Pal 'las (pM'is), Pallas Athene, the 
Grecian goddess of Wisdom, called 
also Athene, and identified at a 
later period with the Roman Min- 

pal 'let (p&l'^t), a small and mean 

par lid (p&rid). wan. 
pal'pa-ble (p&rpi-b'l), capable of be- 
ing touched and felt ; plain, evident. 
al'pi-Ute (pil'pl-tr^ 
and strongly, 
al'try (pSftri), 

pal'pi-Ute (p&rpl-tat), beat rapidly 
and stronglv. 

pal 'try (portri), small, worthless, 

pan'o-ra^ma (p&n'6-ra'm&), a com- 
plete view in every direction. 

pan'to-mime (pin'td-mim), a dramatic 
representation by actors who use 
only dumb show. 

par'a-gon (p&r'i-gdn), a model pat- 
tern of perfection. 

parch 'ment (parch 'mSnt), skin of 
sheep or goat, etc., prepared for 

pard (pard), a leopard. 

par ri-cide (p&r'I-s!d), one who mur- 
ders his own father, or any ancestor. 

par-tic 'i-pate (par-tls'I-pftt), have a 
share in common with others ; to take 

par-tic ' u-lar-ixe (par-tlk ' A-lar-lz) , to 
state in detail. 

Pas'ca-^ou/la (pis'k&-g^/14), a river 
in Mississippi flowing into the Gulf 
of Mexico. 

pa'tri-arch (p&'trl-ark), father and 
ruler of a family; a venerable old 

pa-tri'cian (pi-trXsh'&n), one of high 
birth: a nobleman. 

pat'ri-ctde (pit'rl-ad), murder of one's 
father; the crime of murdering one's 

pat ' ri-mo/ ni-al (pit ' rl-mo' ni-Sl) , in- 
herited from an ancestor. 

pa-vil'ion (pi-vH'yiin), a tent, a large 
temporary building. 

peas 'ant (piz'int), tiller of the soil 
in European countries. 

peas'ant-ry (pgz'int-ri), peasants, col- 

ped'a-gogue (p<d'&-g5g). teacher of 
children; a schoolmaster. 

ped'ant-ry (pid'int-rl), vain display 
of learning. 

ped'i-gree (p«d'I-gr€), a line of an- 
cestors ; descent. 

peer (per), one of the same rank; an 
equal; member of the British no- 

pel'li^le (p«l'I-k'l), a crystallized 

pell'-meU' ipiV-mB'), in utter con- 

pend'ent (p£n'd£nt), something which 
hangs, depends, or is suspended. 

pen'e-trate (p€n'6-tr&t), enter into; 
• pen'i-tent (p£n'!*>t&it), feeling sor- 
row on account of offence. Peni- 
tent Peter, Luke 22, 54-62. 

pen'sive (pen'sXv), thoughtful; sad. 

pent (pSnt), penned or shut up. 

pent' house (pent'hous'), a shed slop- 
ing from the main wall or building, 
as over a door or window. 

Pe'quot (pS'kwdt), a former tribe of 
North American Indians, the most 
dreaded of all in southern New Eng- 

per'ad-ven/ture (p&'&d-vin'tur), by 
chance ; perhaps. 

per-ceive' (o€r-sev'), obtain knowl- 
edge of through the senses; see. 

per-cep'ti-ble (p€r-sgp'ti-b'l), capable 
of being perceived. 

per-fid'i-ous (p€r-fXd'I-iis), false to a 
trust reposed. 

per' pe-tra' tor (pur/ p£-tr& ' t€r) , one 
who does or performs. 

per-pet'u-al (per-p£t'ii-&l), continuing 
forever^ endless. 

per-plez'i-ty (pgr-plik'sl-tl), bewil- 
derment ; doubt. 

per'se-cu'tion (pur 's^-kfl' shun), pur- 
suing to injure; injury. 

per'se-ver' ance (pur'sfc-ver' ins), 

continuing in a given cause; per- 

pe-nis'al (p^-r^z'&l), a careful read- 
ing through. 

per-vade' (p£r-vid'), spread through- 
out; pass through. 

per-va'sive (p€r-va'slv), having the 
power to spread throughout. 

per-verse' (p«r-vurs'), turned aside 
or away from the right, contrary. 

per-ver'si-ty (p€r-vur'sl-tl), the qual- 
ity of being perverse. 

pes'^ti-lence Cpes'ti-l*ns), any conta* 
gious disease that is devastating. 

pes'ti-lent (p£s'tM£nt), destructive; 

Pe-tru'chi-o's Kate (pMr55'chI-6), 
Petruchio — a character in Shakes- 

S are's play, "Taming the Shrew." 
is wife, Kate, is called a shrew 
on account of ner ill-temper. 

pet'ty (p*t'!), small, trifling. 

pew'ter (pQ't^r), a hard, tough, but 
easily fusible alloy of tin with lead. 

pha'lanx (fi' links), a body of troops 
in close arrav ; combination of people 
firmly united. 

phan'tom (f&n'tiim), that which has 
only apparent existence, a ghost. 

phe-nom'e-non (f£-ndm'6-ndn), pi. phe- 
nomena, that which strikes one as 
strange, unusual, or unaccountable; 
an appearance. 



phi-Un'thro-pist (fl-l&n'thr6-p!st), one 
who loves mankincL and seeks to 
promote the good of others. 

pm-lot'o-pher (fl-lds'd-fer), one who 
lives according to the rules of prac- 
tical wisdom; one devoted to the 
search after wisdom. 

phis (f!z), the face^ a humorous abbre- 
viation for physiognomy. 

Phleg'e-thon (fl«^'f-th5n), in Greek 
mythology, a river of fire in the 
lower world. 

phlegm (flim), sluggishness of tem- 
perament: dullness. 

Phoe'bus (l€'biis), or Phoebus Apollo 
in Greek and Roman mythology, one 
of the great Olympian gods and 
giver of light and life. Leader of 
the Muses and God of music. 

phyt'i-cal (ffz'i-kil), pertaining to na- 
ture; relating to the bodily structure 
as opposed to things mental. 

phn ' i-og/ no-my (fiz ' I-dg^ nd-ml) , the 
face or countenance. 

pi'broch (pS'brdk), a Highland air; 
air played on bagpipes when High- 
landers go to battle. 

pic ' tur-etque^ (pik ' t Ar-isk/ ) , form- 
ing a pleasing picture. 

pU'lige (pirij), something taken by 
force; plunder. 

pin (pin), mood, p. 31. 

fSackWt WiliUm (pink'nl), an 
American lawyer and dii)lomatist of 
a fine old southern family. 

•THn'dus-bom A-rac'thua" (pin'dfis, 
&>rftk'thiis), a river in Greece. 
Pindus-born because it rises in the 
Pindus mountains. 

pia'ion (pfn'yiin), a feather; quill; a 

pia'na-cle (pln'&-k*l), a lofty peak; the 
very topmost point. 

Pl'ia (pe'za)^ small' town in Italy, 
famous for its leaning tower. 

Pis-cat 'a-qua (pis-kit '&-kwa), a river 
in New Hampshire. 

*)iitch and moment," impetus or speed. 

*Vitch of pridCj** p. 94, in the very 
place where Douglas's pride is cen- 

pitcher plant, a plant with leaves shaped 
like pitchers. 

••pith o' sense," the force, strength, or 
essence of sense. 

'plain (pl&n), complain. 

Flaini of A 'bra-ham, an elevated plain 
just beyond Quebec to the south- 
west; the scene of the battle of 

plmin-tong. a short, comprehensive 
prayer, adapted to a oarticular day 
or occasion, recited in one tone. 

Plaque 'mine (pliik'm€n). Bayou of 
(bi'5b) an inlet -from the Missis- 
sippi river in Louisiana. 

plane 'tree, an Oriental tree, rising 
with a straight, smooth branching 
stem to a great height; the syca- 
more or buttonwood. 

plash -'y (plash'!), watery; splashy. 

Pla-tae'a's day (pl4-t£'&). See note, 
p. 84. 

plau ' si-ble (plo ' zl-b'l) , praiseworthy ; 

pleas 'ance (pl£z'&ns), pleasure; merri- 

ple-be'ian (pl^-bS'yftn), of or pertain- 
ing to the common people. 

pli'ant (pli'ant), capable of plying or 
bending; flexible. 

pol'i-cy (pdl'f-s!), orudence or wisdom 
in the management of public and 
private affairs. 

pol-lute' (pd-lut'), make foul, impure, 
or unclean. 

pomp (pdmp), show of magnificence or 

pon'der (pdn'd2r), think or deliberate. 

pon ' der-ous (p6n ' d^r-iis) , very heavy ; 

Pope'dom (pfip'dfim), place, office, or 
dignity of the pope. 

popMi-lous (pdp 6-liis), containing 
many inhabitants. 

por' poise (por'piis), a sea fish closely 
allied to the dolphin. 

port (pdrt), the left side of a ship, 
looking forward. 

por'tal (p6r't&l), a door or gate. 

port-cul'hs (pdrt-kfil'ls), a grating of 
iron or of timbers pointed with iron, 
hung over the gateway of a fortress. 

por 'tent (por 'tint), a sign of coming 

por'ti-co (p6r'tl-k6), a colonnade; cov- 
ered space before a building. 

pos'tem (pos'tSrn), back door or gate, 
especiallv of a castle. 

po'tent (po'tint), powerful, having 
great authority. 

po'ten-tate (pd ' t&i-t4t), monarch. 

prae'tor (prS tdr), a civil officer among 
the ancient Romans. 

pre-ca'ri-ous (pr£-k&'rl-us), not to be 
depended on; dangerous. 

pre-ced'ent (pr*-s6d'^fcnt), going before. 

prec'e-dent (pr£s'£-d£nt), a decision 
serving as a rule for future deter- 
mination in similar cases. 

pre-cip ' i-tate ( pr4-sTp ' i-tAt) , over- 
hasty, rash; to fall with steep 

pre-coc'i-ty (pr4-k6s'I-ti), develop- 
ment more than is natural at a 
given age. 

pre ' con-ceive' (prfi ' k5n-scv/ ) , form 
an idea or opinion in the mind be- 

pre ' de-ter ' mi-na^ tion (prfi ' d^-tiir ' mi- 
ni' shun), a decision reached before- 

pre-em'i-nent (pr^-im'I-n&it), above 
other things oi exalted station. 

preg'nant (prSg'nftnt), heavy with im- 
portant contents or significance. 

prej'u-dice (pr«j'd6-dls), ^ judgment 
formed without due examination; to 
bias the mind of. 



prel'ude (prtl'fid), introductory per- 

pre'ma-ture/ (pre\m4-t&r^), npe be- 
fore the proper time. 

pres'age (pr^'sij), n. sign, presents* 

pre-sage' (pr^-s4j'), foretelU 

pre ' 8up-pose/ (pra ' sil-poz^ ) , take tor 

pre-ten ' sion (pr*-t*n/ shiin) , laying 
claim to more than is due. 

prev ' a-lent .(pr*v ' &-l€nt) , generally 
existing; widespread. 

pri'mal (pri'm&Oi first; original. 

prith'ee (prith'*), a corruption of 
"pray thee," generally used without 
the *'I." 

pri-va'tion (pri-va'shfin), depriving or 
taking away; getting along without. 

pro-claim' (prA-kiam'). make known 
by public announcement. 

prod'i-gal (prdd'i-gil), given to ex- 
travagant spending. Prodigal Son, 
Luke 15, 11-32. 

pro-dig 'ious (prd-dlj'fis), very great; 

prod'i-gy (pr6d'l-jl), a marvel or won- 

pro-fess' (pr6-{£s')* admit freely. 

proffer (pr6f'€r). offer for acceptance. 

pro-found (prA-found')t rcachmg to 
the bottom of a matter; deep. 

pro-fuse' (prd-fus'). pouring forth 
bountifully; lavish. 

pro-gen 'i-tor (pr6-j£n'i-tSr), ancestor; 

pro-ject ' ing (pr6-j€kt ' ing) , planmng ; 
throwing forward. 

prom ' on-to-ry ( pr6m ' iin-t A-ri) , high 
point of land projecting into the sea. 

pro-mul ' gate (prd-miir gat) , make 
known, proclaim. 

prone (pron), prostrate, flat; inclin.ed, 

pro-por ' tion-ate (prA-p6r ' shun-at) , p. 
186, at the same rate. 

pro-scribe' (pr6-skrib'), doom to de- 
struction ; denounce. 

pros'trate (prds'trat), lying at length 
with the body extended on the 

pro-voke' (pr6-v6k'), call forth, irri- 

pru'dence (pr^'dSns), wisdom in the 
way of caution and provision. 

puke (puk), vomit. 

Punic (pu'nik), pertaining to the 
Carthaginians, whom the Romans 
considered unworthy of trust, hence, 

purl 'ing (pur'ling^), eddy; also, to 
make a murmunng sound as water 
does in running over an obstruction, 

pur 'port (pur 'port), meaninp^. 

pur-sue' (pur-sti'). follow with a view 
to overtake; chase. 

Pyr'rhic (plr'flc), Pyrrhic dance, a 
Greek martial dance. Pyrrhic pha> 
lanx, a phalanx such as was used 
by ryrrhus, king of Epirus. 

ouaff (kwaf). drink. 

Queen of Lebanon (l<b'&-n5n). Lady 
Hester Stanhope, niece of William 
Pitt. She established herself in the 
Lebanon hills near Jerusalem, await- 
ing the second coming of Christ. 

quell (kwSl), subdue; repress. 

quer'u-lous (kw£r'd&-lfis), apt to find 

quick (kwik). vital part. 

qui-e*tus (kwl-i'tos), that which 
silences claim; death. 

rack Cr&k), danger. 

rad'i-cal (rad'i-klil), proceeding di- 
rectly from the root. 

rail'er (ril'Sr), one who scoffs. 

rai'ment (r&'mSnt). clothing. 

ram 'part (r&m'oart), defense. 

ram'pire (r&m'pir). same as rampart. 

Ranee (rans), a river in France. 

ran'dom (r&n'diim), want of direc- 
tion: chance. 

rap'ine (r&p'!n). a plundering. 

rap'ture (rlp'tiir). pleasure, delight; 

Rat'is-bon Crlit'is-bdn), town in Ba^ 
varia, Germany, called Regensburg 
bv the Germans. 

rav'age (riv'Aj), desolation by vi- 

rav'en-ous (rav'*n-iis), devouring with 
great eagerness. 

raae (raz), lay level with the ground. 

te-buff' (r4-buf*), sudden check. 

re-buke' (r£-bQk'), check or silence 
with reproof: chide. 

re-call ' (r^-kor). call back; remember. 

re-cede' (r*-sed'), retreat; move back. 

re-cess' (r4-s*s^), part of a room 
formed by the receding of a wall. 

re-ces'sion-al (r£-sish'un-&I), a hymn 
sung while the choir and clergy are 
leaving the church at the close of • 

re-cip'ro-cate (r£-s!p'r6-klt), a mutual 

SVing and returnmg. 
(rlk). heed. 

re-coir (re-koil'), drawing back. 

rec'ol-lec^tion ( r*k' 6-1 €k' shun), some- 
thing called to mind. 

rec'on-cile (r«k'6n-sil), pacify, settle. 

rec ' on-noi' ter ( r6k ' 6-noi' ter) exam- 
ine with the eye, survey. 

rec're-a^tion (rek'r^-a/shun), amuse- 

re-cruit' (r*-kf6ot'), repair by fresh 
supplies ; reenforcement. 

rec'ti-tude (r^k'tl-tud), honesty. 

re-cur 'rence (r£-kfir'£ns). the act ol 
returning from time to time. 

re-dress' (ri-drcs'). set right a wrong. 

reek (rek), send forth vapor or smoke. 

"reeking tube," guns and cannons. 

reel (r£l), stagger. 

ref'lu-ent (rMn<55-€nt), flowing back. 

re 'flux (rfi'fluks). ebb. 

ref'u-gee^ (rWA-jc'), one who fleea 
to a place of safetv. 

refuse (r€f'iis). waste matter. 

re 'gal (rd'gal). royaL 



re 'gent (rfi'j&it), mlcr. 

Reg'u-ltts (r£g'^-lus), Note, p. 826. 

re-It 'er-ate (r^-it'er-llt), repeat again 
and again. 

re-lax' (ri-I&ks'), slacken. 

rere-vant (r€I'a-v&nt), bearing upon 
the case in hand. 

re-lief (ri-W ), in art, projection of 
a figure above the ground on which 
it is formed. 

re-luc'tant (r£-mk'tftnt), unwilling. 

rem'nant (r£m'n&nt), that which re- 
mains after a part is removed. 

/e-mon'strate (ri-mdn'strSt), present 
and urge reasons in opposition to 
an act. 

re-moves' (r£-m^vz'), a transfer of 
one's business or belongings from 
one place to another. 

re-mun er-a' tion (r£-mu 'nSr-S' shun), 

re-nown' (r4-noun')» fame. 

rent (rint). broken. 

re-pair' (re-par'), go. 

rep ' u-U/ tion (r«p^A-ta' shfin) , esti- 
mation in which one is held. 

re-pute' (r4-put'), estimate. 

req ' ui-site (rik ' wi>zlt) , something 

re-search' (r£-siirch'), continued 
search after truth. 

re-serve' (r4-surv'), withhold from 
present use for another purpose or 

res ' ig-na^ tion (r£z ' fg-na^ shun) , a 
givmg up a claim, possession or 
office, etc. 

re-sist'less (rt-zlst'lis), powerless to 
withstand ; helpless. 

res'o-lute (rj^z'd-lut), determined. 

re-spec 'tive-ly (ri-spik'tlv-U), relat- 
ing to each. 

res'pite (ris'pit), a puttmg oft. 

res ' to-ra' tion (ris ' tA-ra' shun) , a 
bringing back to a former condition. 

re-tain^ (r4-tan ' ), keep. 

re-treat' (r4-tret')» departure; shel- 

re-veal' (ri-vSl'), disclose. 

rev'el-ry (riv'ftl-ri), noisy festivity. 

re-ver ' ber-ate (r*-vur'ber-at), echo. 

rev'er-ence (r6v'er-£ns), a mingled 
feeling of awe and admiration. 

rev'er-end (rftv'cr-ind), worthy of re- 

rev^er-y (r€v'cr-i). day dream. 

re-viv'mg (rfe-viv'^Ing), returning to 

Rey-han' (ra-h&n'), p. 20. 

rib/ band' (rib/bftnd'}, a nbbon. 

rife (rif), prevailing. 

rift (rift), an opening made by 

ri'ot (ri^iit). tumult. 
rise (riz; ris), cause; occasion. 
rite (rit), solemn observance. 
riv'e* (rlv'6t), fasten firmly. 
riv'ing (riv'Ing), splitting, 
roan (rdn), brown or black color, 

^th gray or white interspersed. 

roist'er (rois'tSr), a blustering, noisy 

ro-mance' (r6-m&ns'). tale or noveL 

"Romance languages,'* the languages 
which were originally dialects of 
Latin, as French, Spanish, Italian. 

Roos (r€os), p. 35. 

Rou'snan Beg (r^'shan-bag), p. 19. 

rout'ed (rout M), overpowered. 

rou-tine' (r6a-t6n'), a round of busi- 
ness or pleasure frequently return- 

Royal Society, a society of London for 
improving natural knowledge. 

rub (rub), hindrance. 

ru'bi-cimd (r65'bf-kfind), ruddy, red. 

ru'di-ment (rd&'dl-mint), a beginning 
or first step. 

ru'mor irSb'tnir), hearsay, common 

ru'nic (rS^'nlk), pertaining to the 
written language of the ancient 

ru'ral (r65'r&l), pertaining to the 

rus'tic (rus'tik), unpolished. 

ruth'less-ly (r<5&th'li8-U). in a cruel 

Rut 'ledge (rut'lJH), the name of an 
illustrious family in South Caro- 
lina—one of them was a signer of 
the Declaration of Independence and 
governor of the state. , 

sa'bre (s&'b2r), a sword with a broad,. 

heavy blade, usually curved, 
sack/ cloth' (siik/kloth'). a garment 

worn in mourninjg or penitence, 
sad 'die-girth (s&d"l-gurth), that which 

fastens on the saddle, 
saddletree, frame of a saddle, 
sage (saj), wise. 

Samt (sant), Catherine's tresses 

(k&th'er-!n) in the Roman church, 

St. Catherine is noted for her vows 

never to marry. To braid St. 

Catherine's tresses applies to one 

who does not marry. 

Bu-la'lie (ill-l&'H), St. Eulalie's day 

is the 12th of February. If the 

sun shines on that day, there will 

be a plentiful apple harvest. 

Fran'cois/ (fran'swa/), a small 

river in Quebec. 
He-le'na (h«-le'n&), island off the 
coast of Africa; the place of 
Napoleon's exile. 
Lou 'IS (1<5&'!), Louis IX, king of 
France. Napoleon received his 
education at his coimtry's expense. 
HaMo(ma'ld), city in France noted 

for its high tides, 
liaur (mor), town on the Teche 
river in Louisiana. 
Sal'a-mis (s&r4-mls), an island in the 
Gulf of Aegina, Greece, famous for 
a great naval battle, 480 B. C. 
Salis^bu-ry (s61z'b8r-I). a town m 
northeastern Massachusetts near 
Whittier's home. 



Sariust (sHriist), a Roman histomn 
who accompanied Caesar on his 
African campaign. 

sal'ly (s&ri)f an excursion from the 
usual course. 

sal'u-U-ry (s41'il-td-ri), wholesome. 

sal ' u-ta/ tion (s&l ' tL-tz^ shun) , greet- 

Sa'mi-an (s&'m!-&n), pertaimng to the 
island of Samos. 

sanc'tu-a-ry (s&nk'ta-4-r!), a sacred 
place; a place of refuge. 

Sand-fle'sen (s&nd-fia's£n), p. 174. 

san ' guine (sin ' gwin) , hopeful. 

Sap'pho (s&f'o), a Greek woman who 
lived about 600 B. C, famous for 
her lyric poetry. 

•ark (sark), a skirt. 

sas'sa-fras (s&s'i-fr&s). an American 
tree of the Laurel family- 

sa-ti'e-ty (s&-ti'£-ti), fullness beyond 

sa-tir'i-cal (s4-tlr'i-k&l), cutting or 

sa-van'na (sk-vln'k), tract of level 
land covered with grass or reeds, 
but without trees. 

Sax'on (sik'sfin), English, p. 77. 

scar (skar), a bare place on a moun- 
tain side. . , . . 

scarf (skarf), in carpentnr a certain kind 
of joint forming a continuous piece. 

scaur (skar). See note, p. 93. 

seep 'tic (sk^p'tlk), a doubter of fact. 

■choon'er (skoSn'Sr), a vessel with 
three, four, and even with six masts 
similarly ngged. 

Sci'an C^'4n), pertaining to Scio, 
claimed by some to be the birth- 
place of Homer, who is called the 
^'Scian muse," p. 79. 

Sci'o (si'o), an island in the Aegean 
Sea noted for its wine. 

scoff (skof), sneer. 

score (skor), furrow. 

Scor'pi-on (skor 'pi-fin), a constella- 
tion; the eighth sign of the zodiac. 

scru'pu-lous (skr^'pA-Iiis), exact. 

scru'ti-ny (skr6a'ti-ni), close ex- 

scud (skud), move swiftly. 

sculp 'ture (skulp'tAr), carve. 

"seal and hand,' a letter with the seal 
and signature of the king, p. 93. 

sea 'son (sc'z'n), temper. 

sed ' u-lous (s^d ' A-lus) , diligent, 

seethe (scth), boil. 

seg'ment (s«g'm6nt), a part cut off. 

Sel' borne (serbom), a parish in 
England, noted on account of Gil- 
bert White's Natural History of Sel- 

sem'blance (sim'blUns), likeness. 

sen'es-chal (s£n'€-shal), officer in a 
prince's house. 

8en-nach'er-ib (sfi-nik'er-Tb). Note, 
p. 75. 

sen-sa'tion (sSn-sa'shun), feeling ob- 
tained through the senses; state of 

excited feeling or that which causes 

sen'ti-ment (s£n't!-m£nt), opinion. 

sen'ti-nel (s£n'tl-n£l), soldier set to 
guard an army or camp. 

sen 'try (sin'tri), guard. 

sep'ul-chre (sJ^p'iil-kSr), grave; bury* 

se-ragl'io (s^-ril'yd), a harem. 

ser'aph (sSr'&f), an angel. 

se-ren ' i-ty ( s^-ren ' I-ti) , calnmess. 

serf (surt), a slave bound to work on 
a certain estate and sold with it. 

ser'vile (sur'vil), like a slave; crini^ 

ses'sion (sSsh'iin), meeting. 

ses'terce (s£s't€rs), an ancient 
Roman coin. 

set'de (s«t"l), a high-backed bench. 

Sew'el (sii'&l). Willum Sewel wrote 
a ponderous nistory of the Quakers. 

Sex'a-ges^i-ma (s£k's&-j£s^I-m&), the 
second Sunday before Lent. 

sev ' er ( si v ' er ) , disjoin. 

shade (shad), ghost. 

shard (shard), a fragment of any hard 

"sharps and trebles." musical notes. 

Shaw^nee' (sho-ne'), a tribe of In- 
dians. Their name means ''South- 

sheathe (shSth), cover with something 
which protects. 

sheen (shen). brightness. 

Sheik (shak), chief magistrate of an 
Arabian village. 

shelves (shilvz), slopes. 

shif'ty (shif'ti), changeable. 

shin'gly (shin'jgU), covered with 
gravel or pebbles. 

shoal (shol). a bar which makes the 
water shallow. 

shrew (shrdo), a scold. 

shrewd ' ness (shrdod ' nSs) , sharp- 

shrive (shriv), to hear confession and 

shroud (shroud), set of ropes staying a 
ship's masts. 

shuffle (shuf'l). to rid one's self of. 

sick 'lied (sik'lld), made sickly. 

Sid'ney (sTd'ni), Sir Philip, an Eng- 
lish author and general of excep- 
tionally fine feeling. 

Siena's saint (sy£'na), St. Catherine, 
the patron saint of Siena. 

sil'hou-ette/ (sil'db-ftt/ ), profile por- 
trait in black. 

si-mil ' i-tude ( sl-mfl ' l-tud) , resem* 

Si'nai (si'ni), the mountain near 
which the Israelites encamped, and 
where the law was given to Moses. 

Sin 'bad (sin 'bid), or Sindbad, a char- 
acter in the "Arabian Nights," who 
made seven wonderful voyages. 

sin'ew (sin'ii), that which supplies 
strength or power; a tendon or 

sin'u-ous (sin'ft-fls), winding, curv- 
ing in and out. 



rire (at), ft fftther. 

Bi'ren (sl'rj^n), one of the three 
tabled sea nymphs, whose singing 
lured mariners to destruction. 

•ite (sit), situation. 

Skar'hobn (skar'hdm). p. 174. 

■kcp'ti-cism (sk€p'ti-nz'm), doubt or 

•Urt (skurt). surround. 

■kulk (skfilk), hide sneakingly. 

■lack (sl&k). loosen; not pressing. 

sledge (sl£j), a sleigh. 

Sleepy Hoiloi!i% a locality in Tarry- 
town, New York. 

■Up (slip), an inclined plane on which 
a vessel is built. 

■loth (sloth), slowness. 

■mack (smUc), small coasting vessel. 

■melt (smilt), melt ore so as to sep- 
arate and refine metal. 

■or ace (sdl'As), comfort in grief. 

■o-lic'i-tude (sd-Us'I-tud), concern. 

8ori-dor (sdl'I-ddr), a fortress on 
the Ranee river. 

■o-lil'o-quy (s6-in'6-kw!), a talking 
to one's self. 

■ol'stice (sdl'stls), point in the 
earth's orbit at which the sun is 
farthest from the equator; winter 
solstice at about December 22, sum- 
mer solstice about June 21. 

8orway (sdrwi), an arm of the Irish 
Sea between England and Scotland, 
noted for the rapidity of its tides. 

■om'bre (sdm'bSr), sad. 

som-bre'ro (s5m-br&'r6), broad- 
brimmed hat , worn in Spain and 
Spanish America. 

to-no'roui (sA-nd'rfis), loud-sound- 

soph^o-more (sdf'6-m5r), one belong- 
ing to the second of the four 
classes in an American college. 

sor'did (sdr'did), base. 

■ore-be-stead' (sdr-b£-st5d')f being 
put in great peril. 

South 'ey, Robert (south 'I), (1774- 
1843), an English poet of the Lake 
School. He was made poet-laureate 
in 1813. 

sov'er-cign (s6v'2r-In), monarch. 

rpa'cious (sp&'shfis), vast in extent. 

Span'ish Main, the name formerly 

given to the southern part of the 
arribean Sea and the adjoining 

coast, covering the route of the 

Spanish treasure ships. 
spar (spar), round timber used on a 

Spar 'tan (spir't&n), an inhabitant of 

Sparta; one of great endurance. 
spawn (spon). bring forth. 
spe'cies (spC'shiz), a kind. 
spe'cious (spS'shiis), showy. 
spec ' ta-cle ( sp€k ' t4-k'l) , something 

exhibited to view, 
spec'tre (8p£k't£r), ghost, 
epher'ule (sfir'Col), a little sphere. 
spi'ral (spl'rftl), winding like the 

thread ox a screw. 

epon-ta'ne-ous (spSn-t&'n^-i&s), pro- 
ceeding from a natural feeling, not 

(spouz), husband or wife. 

sprite (sprit), fairy. 

spume-flakes (spum), flakes of froth 
or foam. 

spur (spur), a pricking implement 
fastened to a rider's heel. 

spurn (spurn), scorn. 

squad 'ron (skwdd'r&n), a deuchment 
of war vessels tmder command of a 

squall (skw61)» sudden and violent 
gust of wind. 

sUg'nate ^st&g'n&t), cease to flow, 
become dull. 

stal'wart (stoKw^rt), brave, strong. 

etal' worth (stdrwurth), brave, strong. 

stan'chion (stin'shun), bar for con- 
fining cattle in a stall. 

star 'board (star'bdrd), side of a ves- 
sel on the right hand of one on 
board facing the bow. 

eUunch (stanch), stop the flow of. 

stem 'son (stim'sun), a piece of 
curved timber bolted to the stem in 
a ship's frame. 

ster'ile (stftr'n). barren. 

ster'ling (stur'ling), genuine. 

stem (stum), after end of a vessel. 

stem 'son-knee (stum'sfin-nO, the con- 
tinuation of a vessel's keelson to 
which the stem-post is secured by 

stir'rup (stir 'up), a ring for snp- 
portmg a horseman's foot. 

sto'ic Gto'Ik), one who appears to 
be indifferent to pleasure or pain. 

Stony Point, a fort on the west bank 
of the Hudson, captured by the 
British in 1779 and retaken by the 
American forces under Anthony 

sto'ried (sto'rld), having an inter- 
esting history. 

■trained (strtod), forced. 

■tren'u-ous (strto'ii-us), tamest; ac- 
tive, vigorous. 

atur'geon (stiir'jfin), a large fish 
common on the coasts and in large 
rivers and lakes. 

Suar'ven (swar'vin), p. 174. 

sub-al'tem (sub-ol'tSra), an officer 
of inferior position, usually below 
the rank of a captain. 

sub ' jtt-ga^ tion (sub ' j^-gfl/ shun), the 
act of conquering or subduing. 

sub-lime' (suD-limO* majestic. 

sub-mis 'sion (sfib-mlsh'fln), a srield- 
ing to power or authority. 

sub-ser ' vi-ence (siib-sur ' vl-fos) , the 
state of being subordinate; yielding. 

sub-side' (stib-sfd'), cease from ac- 
tion, be calm. 

sub-sid'i-a-ry (siib-sld'I-&-rI), assisting. 

sub-sist'ence (sub-sis' tins), means of 

sub-sun ' tial (si^b-stin ' shil) , real ; 



•ub'tile (sfib'tn; ifit'l). difficult of 

tub'urb (stib'urb), an outlying part 
of a city. 

■ub-vert' isiib-vurt'), overthrow. 

•uc'tion (suk'shfin), a sucking in. 

sue (su), seek after; plead. 

•uf ' f er-ance ( sfif ' Sr-ins) , endurance. 

luf-fuse' (sfi-fus'). overspread. 

Su'li-ote (86S'H-dt). Note. p. 84. 

■ul'try (sfirtrl), very hot and moist. 

turn'mons (sfim'finz), call by au- 
thority to appear at a place named. 

Stun'ter (sfim'tSr). an illustrious 
family of South Carolina. Thomas 
Sumter was a Revolutionary general. 

•un'der (si!in'd2r), sever. 

8u'ni-um (sd'nX-i!im), an ancient city 
on a promontory in southeastern 
Greece. It contains the white 
marble ruins of a temple to Athene, 
a famous landmark from the sea. 

ni-perb' (sil-purb'), magnificent. 

Btt ^r-flu' i-ty (su ' p€r-fl5a/ I-tt) , a 
greater quantity than is wanted. 

su 'per-in-hu/ man ( sH ' per-In-hu^ m&n) . 
attended with cruelty to a very great 

8tt-per'nal (sA-piir'n&I), being in a 
higher place; heavenly. 

su ' per-nat^ u-ral (sfl ' pSr-nit/ ft-rXl ) , 
being beyond the powers or law of 

su' per-sti' tion (sfi ' p€r-stish/ fin) , . a 
reverence for or fear of what b un- 
known or mysterious. 

en-pine' (si!i-pm'), indolent; inatten- 

•up'pli-ance (siipMI-&ns), entreaty. 

sur-cease' (sfir's6s'}. end, 

sur/coat' (sur'kdt ), a coat worn 
over the other garments, especially 
the long, flowing coat of the knights 
worn over the armor. 

turf (surf), swell of the sea breaking 
upon the shore. 

sur^e (surj), a large wave or billow; 
nse high and roll. 

•ur'ge-ry (sur'j2r-i), art of healing by 
manual operation. 

sur'ly (sur'li), ill-natured, sullen. 

•ur-inise ' (siir-miz ' ) , suspicion ; 

imagine without certain knowledge. 

•ur-mount' (siir-mount'), rise above; 

Sur'rey (sfir'I). p. 83, an English 
nobleman. Earl of Surrey, lieutenant 
of the northern counties; p. 274, a 
county in England. 

8ur-vive' (sfir-viv'), outlive: con- 
tinue to live. 

tus-pect' (sfis-pCkt'), an object of 
suspicion ; mistrust. . 

tu-sur'rus (sili-sfir'iis), a whisper or 

twan'like (sw5nMlk), p. 81, referring 
to the tradition that the swan sings 
a most beautiful song just before 

twartfa'y (8w6r'thO, being of a dark 
hue or dusky complexion. 

twath (swoth; swdth)^ whole sweep 
of a scythe or machine. 

sweep (sw^p), a pole swinging on a 
tall post, to raise and lower a bucket 
for drawing water. 

swoon (swo&n), faint. 

syl'van (sll'vin). forestlike; rustic. 

sjnn'bol (sim'b51), emblem. 

sym'me-try (sim'*-trl), due propor- 
tion of several parts of a body to 
each other; beauty and balance of 

ssrmp'tom (slmp'tflm). sign; token. 

ssm'^a-gopie (sm'i-gftg), Jewish con- 
gregation or place tor worship. 

Uc'i-tum (tas'i-tfim). habitually 

tang (ting), a strong taste. 

tank'ard (t&nk'&rd), large drinking 

Tan-tal'lon (tUn-t&l'dn), a castle in 
Scotland, the stronghold of the 
Douglas family. 

ta'per (t&'p€r), gradually growing 

tap'es-try (tILp'Ss-trl), hangings of 
wool or silk with gold or silver 
threads producing a pattern or 

tarn (tarn), a small mountain lake. 

Tar 'tar (tar't&r). an inhabitant of 
Tartarv, central Asia; an irritable 
or violent person. 

Tay'ge-tus (t&'g^-tfis), (p. 283, pro- 
nounced ta-ge'tus on account of 
rhythm), highest mountain range in 
southern Greece. 

Teche (tCsh), a small stream in 

teem'ing (tSm'Ing), bringing forth, 

"teeth of the wind," grasp of the wind. 

Te'ian (t£'y&n), pertaining to Te'os, 
an ancient Greek city in Asia Minor, 
the birthplace of the Greek poef 
A-nUc'ri-on, who is called "the 
Teian Muse." 

te-mer'i-ty (t^-m8r'l-tl)f contempt of 
danger; boldness. 

tem'per (tim'pcr), soften. 

tem'po-ral (tj^m'pd-r&l), pertaining to 
time or this world; not lasting. 

tem ' po-ra-ry (t£m ' p6-rA-ri) , lasting 
for a time only. 

ten 'ant (tSn'&nt), occupant. 

ten 'ant-less (t2n'ftnt-Us), unoccupied. 

ten'dril (tSn'dril), a slender leafless 
portion of a plant which attaches it- 
self to a supporting body. 

ten'e-brous (tftn^t-briis), dark, gloomy. 

ten 'or (tin'Sr), general course; con- 

ten 'lire (tin'Ar), a holding. 

ter'ma-gant (tur'mi-gSnt), scolding; 
violent ; a scold. 

ter ' mi-nal (tur ' ml-nil) , boundary, 



tes'ta-meat (tte'tA-ment), a will or 

thatch (thftch), straw^ rushes, etc. 

theme (thSm), a topic on which one 
writes or speaks. 'In mnsic, a short 
melodif from which a set of varia- 
tions IS developed. 

the'o-ry (th£'d-ri), an idea; a plan. 

therc>at (thar-ftf), on that account. 

Ther-mop'y-lae (th€r-m6p'M£), a 
narrow pass in Greece, the scene 
of a famous conflict in the Persian 
wars. A small army of Greeks de- 
fended the pass against a vast army 
of Persians under Xerxes. 

fhill -Cthll). shaft of a carriage. 

thole (th6i)t pin set in the gunwale 
of a boat to serve as a fulcrum for 
the oar in rowing. 

thor/ ough-braee * (th fir/ A-brfts ' ) , a 
leather strap supporting the body of 
a carriage. 

thorp (thorp), a small village. 

Thra'cian (tnr&'sh&n), pertaining to 
Thrace, in early times the oitire re- 
gion north of Greece. 

thrall (throl), slave, bondman. 

thylke (thnk), the same. 

tin'sel (tin'sel), something shiny and 
gaudy, more uiowy than valuable. 

tkr tin-nab ' u-la/ tion (tin ' tl-nSb ' ft-lJ/- 
shiin), a word coined bv Poe to rep- 
resent the sound of bells. 

Tl'tan (tl'tftn), enormous, like the an- 
cient giants in Greek mythology. 

tit'n-lar (tft'A-lAr), existing in title or 
name only. 

toc'shi (tdk'sin), an alarm bell. 

torer-a-ble (tdr€r-&.b'I), capable of 
being endured. 

tol'sr-ant (t5r€r-int), indulgent, al- 

toll'men (tdl'mSn), men who gather 
toll or tax. 

tome (tdm), a large book. 

Ton'grea (tdn'gr'jT, a town in Bel- 

tor'por (tor'pSr), dullness. 

tor 'rent (tdr'ent), a violent stream as 
of water or lava. 

To'ry (to'rl), a supporter of the king. 

Tour'^ville (td&r'vel). See note p. 43. 

"Tous lee Bourgeois' de Chartres" 
(t€5 li b^r-zhwa' d£ shartr), the 
title of an old French song. 

tra-di'tion (tri-dlsh'tin), custom or 
practice lon^ observed: oral delivery 
of information from father to son. 

Tra-fal'gar (tri-firgir). Note. p. 74. 

traffic (trftf'ik), commerce. 

train 'band (tran'b&nd), a band or 
company of an organized military 
force instituted by James I dissolved 
by Charles II but reorganized later. 

trait (trat), distinguishing mark or 

trai'tor (tr&'tSr), one who betrays a 

tran'quil (tr&n'kwil), calm. 

tran-tcend'cnt (trin-sfo'd&it), very 
excellent, surpassing others. 

trans-fig 'ure (trans-fig 'iir), change the 
appearance of; make more beautifuL 

tran sient (trftn'shint), not lasting; 
stayin^^ for a short time. 

tran-si ' tion (tr&n-sf zh ' fin) , passing 
from one condition or place to 

tran'si-to-ry (tr&n'sl-t6-rl), fleeting. 

trans ' mu-ta^ tion (trftns ' mi!k-ta^ shun) , 
the changing from one form or con- 
dition to another. 

trav'ail (tr&v'41), toil; produce with 
severe exertion. 

treach'er-ou8 (tr£ch'€r-fis), faithless. 

Treb/i-zond' (tr«b'f-z»nd'), province 
in northeastern Asia Minor. 

tre'ble (tr2b"l), increase threefold. 

tree 'nails (tri'nftlz), long wooden pins 
used in fastening planks of a vessel 
to the timbers or to each other. 

tre'mor (trS'mSr; trSm'dr), a trem- 

trem ' u-lout (tr&n ' {^-Ifis) , quivering ; 
affected with fear or timidity. 

trep'i-da/tion (trto'l-di'shiin), fear. 

trib ' u-la/ shun (trib ' ft-U' shfln) . that 
which causes distress. 

tri-bu'nal (tri-bfi'n&l), a court; seat 
of a judge. 

trib'u-U-ry (tiib'{^-tA-]i), inferior; 

trice (tris), a very short time. 

trt'reme (tri'r6m), an ancient galley 
or vessel with three tiers of oars. 

Tri'ton (tri'tSn), a sea god, son of 
Neptune* and his trumpeter. 

tri-umph'al (tri-fim'f&l), in honor of 
a victory. 

tro'phy (trfi'fl), anything preserved 
as a memorial. 

•Truce of God," in 1040 the church 
drew up a compact which forbade 
any fighting between sunset on Wed- 
nesdav and sunrise on the following 

tnic'u-lent (triik'A-lSnt), fierce. 

try/ sail' (tri/sSl'), a fore-and-aft sail, 
bent to a gaff, and hoisted on a 
lower mast — used chiefly as a storm 

ttt-mul ' tu-ou8 (ti!k-mi!il ' t{^-us) , boister- 
ous, riotous. 

Tu'nts (tu'nfs). a country in N. Af- 
rica, one of the Barbary states. 

tur ' bu-lent (tur ' bii-lent) , producing 
commotion; restless. 

turf (turf), sod. 

tur 'moil (tur 'moil), worrying confu- 

turn/ pike' (turn/pik'), toUgate; a 
turnoike road. 

tur 'ret (tiir'j^t), a small tower at the 
angle of a larse building. 

Tus-ca-ro'ra (tus-lca-ro'ra), a tribe of 
Indians who, when first known, 
lived in North Carolina. After years 
of warfare with the colonists, tba 



remnant joined the Iroquois in New 

twang (tw&ng), sound with a quick, 

harsh noise. 
typ-'i'iy (tip'I-fi), represent by a 

type, model, or resemblance. 
tsrr'an-ny (tir'i-ni), cruel government 

or discipline: severity. 
Tyre (tir), a famous maritime city of 


u-biq'tti-ty (ft-blk'wi-tO, existence 
everywhere at the same time. 

ul'ti-mate (iirti-mit), incapable of 
further analysis; final. 

un ' be-hold/ en (fin ' b«-h6l' d*n) , not 

im-cal/ cu-la ' ting (fin-kil' kA-Ut ' Ing) , 
not estimating. 

un ' con-di' tion-al (fin ' k5n-dXsh' fin-&l), 
made without conditions. 

un-con-fined' (un-k6n-find')( not bound 
or limited. 

un-couth' (fin-k^th')i awkward. 

un' du-la ' ting (un' dfi-lat ' Ing) , mov- 
ing backward and forward, or up 
and down in waves. 

un-fledged' (fin-fl€jd'), not feathered, 
hence not fully developed. 

un-furl' (fin-furr). unfold. 

u'ni-son (u'nX-sun), harmony. 

u ' ni-ver' sal (u ' nf-vur' sil) , including 
the whole number, quantity, or 
space ; all-reaching. 

un-knelled' (fin-nSld'), having no bell 
tolled at funeral or death. 

un-meet' (fin-m£t'), not suitable. 

un'ob-tru/sive (fin'db-tr^'siv), mod- 

un-per-turbed (fin.p€r-turbd'), not 
troubled or confused. 

un-pre-med' i-tat ' ed (fin-pr6-m2d' I- 

tat'M), not thought out beforehand. 

un-pro-faned' (fin-prd-fand')» not vio- 
lated, as anything sacred. 

un-pro-por ' tioned (un-pr6-pfir ' shfind), 
not having the right relation of 
one portion to another. 

un-re-strained' (fin-r^-str&nd'), not 
kept in check or curbed. 

un-ri' vailed (fin-rl'v&ld), having no 

un-scathed' (fin-sk&thd'), not injured. 

un-wont ' ed (fin-wfin ' ted) , unaccus- 

up-braid' (fip-br&d'), reproach or 

U-phar'sin .(fi-far's!n). See Daniel 
5, 25. 

up-hol'ster-er (fii>-hdr8ter-Sr), one who 
provides curtains, coverings, hang- 
ings, etc. 

ur'chin (ur'chin). a roguish child. 

Ur-si'ni (ur-sc'n€), a prominent noble 
family in Rome. 

Q-surp' (fi-zurp'), seize and hold a 
possession b^ force. 

ut ter-ance (ut'Sr-&ns), the act of 

vague (vag). uncertain, 
variant (v&ry&nt), courageous, 
val'or (virCr), personal bravery, 
van (vftn), the front of an army. 

van'dal (v&n'd&l), one who wilfully 
destroys any work of art or liter- 

vane (v&n). weathercock. 

van'quish (v&n'kwXsh), conquer or get 
the better of. 

van'tage-ground (v&n'tij-ground), con- 
dition which gives one advantage 
over another. 

va'ri-ant (va'ri-ftnt), different. 

va' ri-e-gat ' ed ( vi' r!-«-g&t ' «d) , hav- 
ing marks of different colors. 

vas'sal (vSs'&l), a subject or servant. 

vaunt (vant), boast. 

ve'he-ment (vfi'hi-mint), acting with 
great force: violent. 

ve-Ioc'i-ty (vi-lfis'i-ti), speed. 

ven-due' (v«n-dfl'), an auction. 

ven ' er-a-ble (v«n '^er-A-b'l) , deserving 
honor and respect. 

ven'er-ate (v«n'€r-at), regard with 
respect and awe. 

venge'ance (vte'j&ns), punishment in- 
flicted in return for injury; revenge. 

vent (v«nt), outlet. 

ven'ture (ven'tfir), risk. 

ve-rac'i-ty (v4-ris'i-tJ), truthfulness. 

ver'dant (vur'dint), green. 

ver'dure (vur'dfir), greenness. 

verge (vurj), edge, brink. 

ver^i-ly (v«r'l-ll), beyond doubt or 
question, trulv. 

ver'nal (vur'nal), pertaining to the 

ver^sion (vur'shfin), a translation, ac- 

ves'tal (v«s'tai), a virgin conse- 
crated to Vesta; mm. 

vet'er-an (v«t'€r-an), one grown old 
m service. 

vi' brant (WbrSnt), tremulous. 

vi-bra'tion (vi-bra'shfinX, quick mo- 
tion to and fro. 

vi-cin ' i-ty ( v!-sln ' i-tl) , neighborhood. 

vi-cis'si-tude (vf-sls'i-tud), regular 
change or succession from one thing 
to another. 

vig'il (vij'il), watch. 

vin ' di-cate ( vin ' dl-kat) , justify. 

vi-ra'go^ (vl-ra'g6), a woman of ex- 
traordinary size, strength, and cour- 

vir'tu-aMy (vur'tfi-SI-in, being In es- 
sence or effect, not in fact. 

vis 'age (viz'Aj), the face. 

vi'sion (vizh'fin), that which is seen. 

vis'ta (vis'ti), view between inter- 
vening objects. 

viv'id (viv'ld), true to life; bright 

viv'i-fy (viv'i-fi), make alive. 

vix'en (vflc's'n), a cross, ill-tempered 

vo-ca ' tion (v6-k& ' shfin) , occupation. 

vo-cif'er-^us (v6-8lf'€r-fis), noisy. 

void (void), empty; being without. 



vol'ley (v6rr), a burst of many 
things at once. 

Vol-tur'nus (vdl-t56r'nfls), a river in 

vo-lu' mi-nous (vA-la'ml-nfls), of great 
volume or bulk. 

vo-lup'tu-ous (vd-lfip'tft-fls), full of 
pleasure; luxurious. 

▼or'ti-ces (v6r'ti-s€z), whirlpools. 

vouch-saf e ' (vouch -ski ' ) , condescend 
to grant; assure. 

▼oy'a'geur^ (vwi'yi'zhurO, a trav- 
eler: Canadian term used for one 
employed in transporting goods to 
the Northwest. 

▼ul'ture (vfil'tiir). a bird which feeds 
on dead flesh of animals or birds. 

Vurrgh (vurg), p. 174. 

Wa'chi-ta (wa'shl-ta), p. 228. 
waft'ed (w4ft'£d), floated along 

lightly on air or water, 
rail (war 

wail (wai). weep. 

wain (wfin), wagon. 

wake (wak), trace. 

war let (w5r£t), knapsack; pocket- 

Warie-way (wal'fi-wa), p. 238, prob- 
ably Longfellow had reference to 
the Wallowa river in northeastern 

wan (w5n), pale. 

wan 'ton (won'tfln), reckless. 

wan 'toned (wdn'tund), played. 

ward'er (w6r'd€r), guara. 

Ware (war), a town m England about 
20 miles north of London. 

warld (warld), world. 

warp (worp), the threads extending 
lengthwise in a loom, and crossed 
by the woof. 

wa'ry (wi^'ri; war't), cautious, watch- 

wash (w5sh), bog or marsh. 

watch (w6ch), period during which 
one serves as a sentinel or guard. 

wa ter-butt (w6'tcr-but). a U'ge, open- 
headed cask, set up on end to con- 
tain water. 

Wa'ter-loo' (w6't€r-l65'), a village 
near Brussels where Napoleon met 
defeat. So complete and so decisive 
was the disaster that Waterloo has 
come to mean defeat. 

wa'ver (wa'vfr), totter; unsettled. 

weath-er-cock, figure often in the form 
of a cock, turning with the wind 
and showing its direction. 

weird (w*rd), pertaining to witdi- 
craft; wild. 

wel'kin (wil'Hn), vault of heaven; 

wel'ter (wil'tir). roll or tumble about. 

Wert (wurt), were (pronoimce to 
rhyme with **art**). 

West 'minister Ab-bey (wist'min-stcr), 
a former church in London, the 
burial place of many kings, states- 
men, and authors. 

whig Ob w!g), one of a political party 
m England, also in America; op- 
posed to Tories. 

whip/ pie-tree' (hw!p/'l-tr€'), bar to 
which the traces of a harness are 
fastened for drawing a carriage. 

whisk 'in^ (hwlsk'mg), moving nimblr 
and with velocity. 

whit (hwit), the smallest part imaff* 

White, Gilbert (hwit), an eminent 
English naturalist, who wate bom in 
Selbome and was the author of 
"Natural History of Selbome." 

Wi-ca'co (wc-ka'ko), p. 247. 

wim'pling (wlm'pUng), rippling. 

WIS (wis), think. 

wist'ful ( wist 'f 661), longing. 

witch/ -ha ' ael ( wich/ -ha-z*l) , Amer- 
ican tree or shrub which blossoms 
late in Autumn. 

with-hold' (wlth-hold'), keep back. 

wix'ard (wlz'ard), a magician. 

woe/ -be-gone ' (wo/ b£-g6n ' ), dis- 
tressed with grief. 

wold (w61d), a plain or low hill. 

Wolfe, Charles (wd61f), an Irish 
clergyman and poet, born 1791. 

Wol'sey, Thomas (wdbl'sOt a cele- 
brated English statesman and car- 
dinal. He gained the ill-will of 
Henry VIII by his conduct in the 
matter of the King's divorce. 

wont (wunt), custom or habit. 

woof (w<5of), the threads crossing the 
warp in a woven fabric. 

Worces'ter, Joseph Emerson (wdda'- 
tgr), p. 140. 

wrack (rSk), ruin. 

writhe (nth), twist. 

wrought (rot), made. 

Xan-thip'pus (zan-thlp'us), a Spartan 
commander who won a victory over 
Regulus in 255 B. C. 

yacht (y6t), light vessel for pleasure 

yard (yard), a long, slender timber 
to suppprt and extend a ship's sail. 

Sreo'man (yd 'man), a common man 
of a reputable class. 

Yp'si-lan/ti (fp'si-lan/t*), a cele- 
brated Greek patriot who in 1820 
became a leader in the movement for 
Greek independence. 

Yule/ -log' (y65l/-16g'), a large log of 
wood, formerly put on the hearth 
on Christmas Eve, as the foonda- 
tiort ''* wm brooght in 

wit' 't 



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